


Gather No Moss

by kiddle



Series: Woodstock Series [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1960s, Alternate Universe, Angst, Coming of Age, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Famous Harry, Friends to Lovers, Hippies, Historical, Humor, M/M, Musicians, Non-Famous Louis, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Road Trips, Sexual Content, Tour Bus, Touring, Woodstock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-09-18 13:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16996146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiddle/pseuds/kiddle
Summary: “So what about the good guys? The singer-songwriters who make good shit and are still trashed by the press?”“I’m not saying it’s fair. I just think people eventually get what they deserve. You think your music is good, but critics don’t seem to care? Screw ‘em. Make music until fans are selling out your shows and screaming your name from the crowd. Eventually, the critics will catch on. By then, you probably won’t be concerned anyway.”Harry looked at him curiously. “If that’s how you feel, then why are you in this field?”Louis shrugged. "I care about music. I like writing, but I’m shit at playing instruments. This was the compromise.”“Becoming the enemy?"“Telling the truth.”--Music journalist Louis Tomlinson will do just about anything to get a story he’s passionate about. Including spending a week on tour with the hard-to-manage rockstar-in-the-making Harry Styles. In the late 60s, every long-haired kid thinks they can make it in music, and Louis’ job is to figure out what exactly makes Harry so special. That is if he can get him to put down the bottles and guitars to answer a question truthfully.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a **sequel** to my Woodstock AU called Half a Million Strong which you can read here if you haven't yet, or check it out on my account. 
> 
> In terms of the story itself, I just want to make note of a few things. Portrayals of characters are strictly meant to benefit the story and in no way reflect any real people. Also, no original characters are meant to represent real people in any way.  
> I've had a lot of fun writing this and I feel like it's a little different from my usual style so I hope you enjoy. I'd love to hear any thoughts/predictions/opinions in the comments. Thank you in advance for checking this story out!  
> -K

Palms truly shouldn’t be able to produce this much sweat. Louis could feel the moisture between every crease of his hand as he squeezed his fingers together. He was worried that he might leave a damp print in their shape on the arms of this leather chair. He should’ve probably stopped rubbing his hands against it sooner than the thought actually crossed his mind. Normally, he was more than confident when it came to this sort of thing, but now he kind of felt like this might make or break him. Not just his career, but everything else he had riding on it. He tried to push the thought away and take a deep breath, but then he heard the footsteps and the door closing with a latch behind him.

“Sorry, I was running late. Just had a meeting I had to finish before I got to you.”

“No worries, sir,” Louis said brightly. He adjusted the folded cuffs on his shirt while watching his boss make his way to the other side of the desk.

“I appreciate you meeting with me, Tomlinson.” He was moving papers around to get the space in front of him a little more to organized, avoiding Louis’ eye directly. That just made his heart thud harder. Where the hell did these nerves come from?

“Of course,” he said, trying his best to smile calmly, but who was he kidding? He was a wreck and his glistening forehead gave it all away.

“I’ve read over your piece. I read it a few times actually. It’s a lot to think about.”

“That’s what I was going for,” Louis grinned with his lips pressed together, but his boss wasn’t returning in the friendly exchange.

Ralph was a blunt man, something that was admired in a business like this. By appearance alone, his sideburns, large glasses, buttoned shirt tucked into a bulky belt, and average frame made him look like just one of the kids. But when you heard him speak and knew the kind of power he held in this office, it was hard to be relaxed around him. You either had to have the confidence Louis had to walk in those doors and demand a shot, or the writing skill that spoke for itself.

“How do _you_ feel about this piece?” he asked with his hand rested over his chin and a pen threaded through his fingers.

Louis breathed in sharply through his nose. “Honestly, I think it’s my best work so far.”

That was the truth. Louis hadn’t stopped working on it since he got back last week. He submitted it last night after spending the whole day editing until it was perfect. Caffeine had become so necessary that he stopped caring when the coffee got cold and kept drinking it anyway. He had never worked harder, and he had never lost so much sleep.

Ralph took a deep breath of his own with his head tilted down, but then his eyes flickered up. “I think so too.”

Louis’ nerves switched gear and his heart had a new reason for how fast it was beating. “You do?”

“I talked it over with Feldman and we’re going to push next month’s profile to feature your Woodstock piece on the cover. We need this on the stands as soon as possible.”

His face burned red. Those were words he thought he wouldn’t be hearing for years. “Are you serious?”

“You did good work, kid. I’m glad I trusted you.”

“I don’t even- Thank you, I-“

“No need for thanks. You worked hard for it. We do have to talk about the Harry Styles interview, however.”

No word that came out of this man’s mouth in the last couple of minutes was going to allow Louis even a second to relax. He tried to get his mind onto the new track, but this was all a little much to process.

“What about it?”

“Because we’re pushing the Joe Cocker profile, we can only feature one next month. It’s also rare to feature the same writer two months in a row, especially when you have quotes from Harry in this article. I’m just not sure now is a good time.”

His brain barely had enough time to gather all the information before it was already spurting a response. “Ralph, you know we have to do this now. This guy hates the press. If we wait, he’s going to back out altogether.” Louis leaned forward and placed his hand firmly on the desk. “He’s only going to be new to the industry once. We can be the publication that introduces him to the people. They know his music, they bought his album, and now they want to know who this guy actually is. He’s more than his vocal range and I can be the one to show that to the country.”

Now, Ralph’s steely glare wouldn’t budge.

“You trusted me once and it got you a new cover story. Let me ride this high and I won’t let you down.”

His mouth twitched. “This is a story you’re passionate about?”

“Absolutely. And after Woodstock, his name will be in everyone’s mouth.”

“So will Joe Cocker’s. The interview was conducted before the festival. If we don’t get this feature out soon, it’s going to be old news.”

Louis paused, letting his tone fall to soft sincerity. “I have a good feeling about this and I know you did too when I first pitched the story in July. For this piece to be great, it has to be now and I have to be the one to write it. Let me prove to you that I can do this again.” When he was finished, he held his breath.

Ralph stood up, walked to the shelf on the other side of the room, and pulled a sleeve off the wall. Louis watched him as he studied the cover. He knew exactly what album that was. He’d been listening to it every time his brain stopped his fingers from being able to write. By now, he knew all the words and thought far too hard about their meanings.

“You can promise me a story, but I can’t promise you a cover. Not until I read it, at least.”

“How about I promise _you_ a cover?” Louis stood up, a smirk on his mouth as he stepped around the desk. Ralph looked him up and down, pulling up his sleeves before folding his arms across his chest. He wasn’t a tall man, but he was still taller than Louis. Enough for it to only add to the intimidation.

“That’s a big promise, kid.”

“We got a deal?” Louis extended his hand.

He was hesitant, but Ralph took it, his grip firm as he shook once. “Deal.”


	2. Day 1 - San Francisco

A car was being sent to pick him up.

That was the call that Louis received on the morning of the San Francisco tour date. A driver was going to be sitting outside his apartment building, waiting to take him to the venue for the show.

And to see Harry.

That was a big part of this that he hadn’t forgotten. It had been almost two weeks since the festival. They were able to talk on the phone only once since both of them were so busy, but that phone call lasted nearly three hours. The only three hours that Louis didn’t spend writing since his return home. As it turned out, they had a lot to talk about, but he still didn’t feel like he knew him. Harry was the type of person to walk around with a shield that you could barely tell was there. You could leave a conversation feeling like you made a friend, but really you didn’t learn a damn thing about him because he was too busy trying to figure you out. Getting through that shield was going to be Louis’ biggest challenge this week.

The drive to the venue felt long even though Louis had done this same commute by bus many times before and that was surely longer. He only packed a small duffle bag of clothes to bring along with him, along with his usual work bag. His intention was to pack light since, as far as he was aware, this was going to be a week of jumping between hotels, theatres, and the tour bus, and he didn’t want to have to worry about many belongings. If he could help it, his work bag that held his trusty notebook wouldn’t even leave his side.

Without Louis even touching it, the back door of the car opened and he was being greeted by a woman holding clipboard against her chest. She had her greying hair tied back and looked to be in quite the rush, but still offered a pleasant greeting.

“Louis Tomlinson, nice to meet you,” she said as he stepped out of the car. Louis slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and followed her lead down the ramp and towards the back entrance. “I’m Patty, Harry’s tour manager. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the next week.” Louis had to jog slightly to keep up as they moved through the door and down a wide and busy hallway. It took a lot of his brain power to not fixate on all the moving people around him as they prepared to begin the show. From the stage, he could hear the opening band in the middle of their set. Still, he tried to focus on Patty’s words as quickly as she spoke them.

“Harry asked me to escort you to his dressing room since he wanted to see you before the show. That reminds me, put this on,” she handed him a lanyard that said ‘All Access’ across it. Not ‘Press’ like his was used to. He looped it around his neck, stumbling on his steps. “That pass will get you anywhere, but try to know when to be out of the way. After tonight, the next dates are Los Angeles, San Diego, and Phoenix. From there, we will be flying to Dallas and then Kansas City for the midwest dates. Since you will be traveling directly with Harry, your travel has been included with the rest of the crew, meaning you will have a hotel room, seat on the plane, and a bunk to yourself all covered. Try to stick with the group because if you’re late, we won’t wait.” She stopped, turned around, and smiled. “Any questions?”

Louis wasn’t quite sure he caught all of that, so he took a second to collect his thoughts. “I think I should be good.”

“Great!” Patty tucked her clipboard under her arm and turned to the door. “This is it,” she said, then knocked twice.

“Come in!” The words were mumbled from the other side, but Louis recognized that tone. Patty twisted the handle and opened the door before Louis could even think about it.

Harry wasn’t sat alone on the long leather couch that occupied an entire wall of the room. In his lap was a white electric guitar that he wasn’t playing, but he had the strap around his neck and body and his right arm was draped over it. In his left hand was a plastic cup, contents unknown but Louis could make more than an educated guess. He was already dressed for the stage in his colourful scarves and flowy shirt. Next to him was a young man with long dark hair that fell onto his shoulders and over his eyes, his arm around a young blonde girl who was sipping a drink of her own. The room was full of people who looked just like the both of them, sitting on couches and chairs opposite and leaning against counters and walls. Some drinking, some smoking, most talking and laughing. Louis wondered how many worked for the tour, or how many Harry even knew.

But when Harry looked up at him and smiled, Louis forgot all of that. He lifted off his guitar and rested it against the table across from him as he stood up and crossed the room.

“You made it,” Harry said, voice quiet as he got closer.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Louis smiled because it felt so nice to be able to look at him again.

“Thanks for bringing him over,” he said to Patty.

“My pleasure,” she nodded, then looked between them knowingly, something Louis noticed right away. His cheeks got a little hot and his breath got caught in his throat. Louis supposed if anyone were to know about them, it would be the people in charge of Harry’s day-to-day life. “Should I ask everyone to give you the room?”

“No need,” Harry assured her. Louis was glad for that answer. If he said yes, that would create even more of a scene. “Do you want to come for a walk?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on stage in-” Louis checked his watch “-less than half an hour?”

“Plenty of time,” Harry grinned. “Come with me.”

Guiding Louis by the small of his back, the two of them escaped to the hallway and continued down the opposite way he came from.

“How was the drive?” Harry asked, their arms brushing together as they walked.

“It was different. I’ve never been driven around like that except by cab. How was your flight?”

“Always too long, but I had a few things to be excited about.”

“Like starting a cross-country tour?”

Harry lifted the corner of his mouth. “That was one of them.”

They stopped in front of a room similar to the dressing room they just came from. Harry checked the handle, seeming pleased with himself that it was unlocked. The room was pitch black on the inside, which must’ve been perfectly fine with Harry because he didn’t reach for a light switch. Instead, he pulled Louis inside by the wrist, closed the door behind them, and connected their lips before Louis’ back even hit the wall.

The kiss felt all too familiar, and that’s what Louis loved about it. The thrill was the same, but the urgency was new. He remembered the curve of Harry’s jaw as he brushed his fingers along it, and the taste of his lips tinged with all sorts of intoxicating substances. Those alone could put Louis on a high, and they have.

Harry wasted no time slipping his hands under the hem of Louis’ shirt, his fingers hot as they pressed into his skin. He seemed eager for it to come off.

“You have a show in fifteen minutes,” Louis reminded him. It was so dark he couldn’t tell what expression was on Harry’s face, but he could only guess once he felt his hands giving up on the shirt and instead moving to his belt buckle.

“We better make this fast then,” Harry said, his voice noticeably deeper. He was going for the button next, and then the fly.

“Wait,” Louis said, just as he reached his hand in. His timing couldn’t be worse because he almost immediately regretted the words. As much as he wanted to keep this going, his brain was going to have to defy his body this one time.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, resting his hand on his waist instead. That didn’t help Louis’ current problem, but it was too late now.

“We can’t do this right now.”

“The show doesn’t start at an exact time or anything. I can be a little late,” Harry insisted, but Louis was already shaking his head because that wasn’t what he meant. But then he realized Harry couldn’t exactly see his head, so he reached an arm out until he found the light switch and flicked it on. Harry was looking a little more than disheveled, and Louis could only assume his appearance was the same.

“Actually, I think that we should wait until…” but he trailed off because he realized that ten minutes to showtime really wasn’t a good moment for a conversation like this.

“Until what?” Harry asked, looking him in the eyes. His pupils were still big despite the abrupt change in lighting. Odd, considering how long they’d been practically sucking face in the dark. This wasn’t exactly the greeting Louis expected, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t initially enjoy it.

“Why don’t we talk about this after the show?”

“If there’s something we need to talk about, I can’t go the whole show stressing about what it could be. You can tell me now, it’s okay.”

Louis sighed, diverting his gaze to the ground. This wasn’t going to be a fun conversation no matter when it happened, but he’d been thinking about it ever since his meeting in Ralph’s office. He knew it had to happen like this. It was the only way anything productive would be able to come from his few days on tour.

“I think we should hold off on anything more happening between us until the end of the week. A lot more is at stake for this interview and I think if we keep a slight distance - just for now - it’ll ensure there won’t be any conflict of interest. Then when this is all over we can pick right back up where we left off.”

Harry was staring at him, a crease between his eyebrows.

“You do know that I already sucked you off once, right?”

Louis’ cheeks flushed red. This was still all too new for those terms to be anything he was used to. “Yes,” he said.

“And that you gave me a handjob in a pond.”

“I remember,” Louis said again, clearing his throat.

“I’m just saying, I pretty sure there’s already a conflict of interest.”

“That’s why I think we should take a step back. Just for now.”

Taking his words literally, Harry did just that. He didn’t seem hurt or angry like Louis feared, just a little confused. But Louis knew this would be for the best, and he really hoped Harry would understand that too.

“I thought this was the whole reason you were here,” Harry waved a finger between them.

“I thought I was here to write a story.” The statement came off slightly more jarring than Louis intended, so he tried to soften his tone. “It took a lot to get here. If the story is going to be good, I can’t risk fucking it up. You said this is what you wanted. I’m still here. We can still get to know each other.”

“Just without the sex.”

Louis tilted his head to look at the ground, then realized he should probably do his pants back up. Standing there with his belt hanging open probably wasn’t helping things.

“More or less,” he said over the sound of his zipper.

“Okay,” Harry nodded slowly, looking a little embarrassed even though he had no reason to be. His assumption would’ve gone both ways if it wasn’t for Louis’ workaholic tendencies. Anything more than friends, at least for this week, would just be a distraction. “Can I still take you to dinner?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Louis smiled. “How about this time next week?”

“We’ll be in Chicago and I’ll be about to go on stage in,” he lifted Louis’ wrist to look at his watch, “three minutes.”

“Think you can squeeze me in after?”

Harry smirked and he looked like he wanted to kiss him again, but withheld. “I’ll talk to Patty. See what I can do,” he shrugged, a twinkle of amusement in his eye that was quite contagious.

Louis didn’t know how he was going to the whole week resisting that smile.

“This will be for the best, trust me. In two months time, your face might just be on the cover of Rolling Stone.”

“Might be?”

“Going to be,” Louis affirmed. No one else needed to know about the deal with his boss. He was going to make it happen. That’s why he was doing all of this. It wasn’t that Louis didn’t know how to lose gracefully, he just found it useless to put in so much work if you weren’t sure you were going to win.

“Looking forward to it, Tomlinson.”

Louis cringed slightly at the name because the only person who ever called him by his last name was his boss, but he was also glad to hear that Harry didn’t forget it.

“You have one minute before showtime,” Louis said, taking another glance at his watch. Part of him wished they could spend that last minute doing something else behind this closed door, but he couldn’t give in minutes after their agreement. His self-control was better than that.

“Come watch from side stage,” Harry insisted, his mood almost giddy now. “I promise it’ll be a great show.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Louis teased. He technically _was_ the critic here.

As he opened the door, Harry stepped out of the way to allow Louis to exit first. He waited a half beat before following into the hallway so it wasn’t so obvious how close they were originally standing. He also waited until they were outside of the room before turning the light back off. Just precautions.

With one glance in their direction, Patty was shooting daggers at Harry with her eyes. She groaned loudly as she stormed towards them.

“You’re not pulling this shit with me, Harry!” she said, a finger pointed at his chest. “I told you if I was working for you again that you were following my schedule. Side stage, five minutes before showtime. Be as early as you hope pleases me, but never be late.”

“I got it,” Harry said affirmatively trying not to rebut in her same argumentative tone. By the sounds of it, this was a conversation they’d had before. Multiple times before.

“If this tour is anything like the last one, I walk.”

“You have my word.”

“Good. Side stage. Now.”

Party turned around to march down the hall, her clipboard tucked firmly against her hip. Harry nodded foreword so Louis would follow. He looked a little sheepish and his cheeks were flushed pink. Although, they were also that way before. If only there was a way to easily get rid of them, and the swollen lips to match.

When Patty was far enough ahead, Louis whispered, “What happened last tour?”

Harry looked down at his feet and sniffed uncomfortably. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, and it was pretty clear that meant to drop it.

As they got closer to the stage, people began crowding them to get Harry everything he needed before starting to show. The house lights went out and the crowd began shouting their excitement.

“Come on!” Harry called after Louis as he was being ushered towards a curtain. “You get the best view in the room!”

Louis followed up the ramp and through the curtain. The bright lights made his eyes glaze over, but then he peeked his head out at the people. This wasn’t a view he’d ever seen. It was like looking out at the world from the tallest building in the city, but all these people were looking back. They were looking at Harry, cheering him on as he strolled out there with his band behind him.

And then the drumbeat kicked in.

 

When Harry came off the stage, the first thing Louis noticed was how sweaty he was. His skin was shiny and his hair stuck to his forehead, but he was beaming. An energy surrounded him like sunbeams as the crowd continued to cheer. He handed off his guitar to a tech, accepting and returning in praise from his band as they followed him down the steps. Louis just watched, taking notes in his mind.

Before he could even get a word out to Harry who was fast approaching him, they were being escorted towards the back ramp where the running tour bus was awaiting them. A few people got on ahead of Louis, Harry included because he had lost him in the crowd. Patty assured Louis that he would be traveling with Harry and the band, so he assumed he was fine to follow.

A few steps up and into the tour bus and somehow he had walked into a party of twenty or thirty people crammed into this one bus that could maybe sleep ten. A bottle of beer was pushed into his hand and he kept advancing forward like he was stuck in a current. Music blared from the radio sitting on the counter and the ever-present smell of smoke filled the air. Louis recognized the people around him from the show, but he hadn’t been introduced yet. Even though he watched him walk in here, Harry was nowhere to be seen amongst the chaos.

“Sit down man,” said a guy tucked into one of the two booths on either side of the bus. He was shuffling a deck of cards and had a half-smoked but unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear. Sunglasses sat on his nose despite the fact that it was midnight and they were indoors, and his long hair fell across his forehead.

“Sure,” Louis agreed, sliding into the last spot at the table. Around the booth were two other guys, one with a round face, short hair, and prescription glasses, and another long-haired kid with a brown bandana holding it all together. A girl sat between them, watching the first guy’s hands move the cards around. Claiming she needed another drink, she stood up and hopped over the backrest, leaving Louis alone with the guys.

“Smoke?” the one with the bandana asked. He slid over the pack and lighter that was rested on the table. Louis was more than grateful for the cigarette as he pulled the ashtray closer.

“You’re Louis, right? The enemy that’s going to be hanging around the tour for a while?” The one with sunglasses looked at him. At least, he assumed he was looking at him. His raised eyebrows and cocky smile revealed that he already knew the answer. Harry must’ve not been keeping _all_ of him a secret.

“Suppose I am,” Louis nodded, taking a long gulp of his beer.

“I’m Vinny,” sunglasses said. “I play guitar in the band. That’s Doc, he’s on drums,” he pointed to the kid with the round face. “And this is our bassist, Maurice,” he nodded in the direction of Brown Bandana.

“It’s cool to meet you guys,” Louis said. The ‘enemy’ comment left him a little on edge, but these guys looked friendly enough. Enough to have a drink with, at least.

“Guess we’ll be seeing you quite a bit, then.” Maurice was looking him up and down. He had a moustache that was split in half on his top lip. Louis decided immediately that he did not like it.

“Tour life is fun, man,” Doc said. “Seriously. Play or watch a few shows, party at night, wake up in a different city every morning…”

“And with a different person, at that,” Maurice added. Vinny shoved him, but most of the table was laughing. Louis smiled, but he felt the comment was worth an eye roll more than anything.

“You play much blackjack? Thirty-One?” Vinny asked, ignoring Maurice as he dealt out the cards.

“Not really,” Louis said, ashing as he blew out a cloud of smoke. He wasn’t sure how much more of this conversation he was interested in being a part of. “Any of you seen Harry around? I was actually looking for him.”

As if on cue, a chair appeared at the end of the table, a hand spinning it around so it was placed backwards. “Deal me in, boys,” Harry said as he straddled the seat, placing his own beer on the table with a thump.

“You got it, boss,” Vinny nodded, sliding a few cards towards him. Louis had already been dealt in as well, so he supposed he was playing. He looked at his cards. Ten of diamonds, two of hearts, and a four of clubs. Thirty-one in the same suit or three of a kind could win the game, but he was starting with basically nothing.

“So,” Harry said, looking fleetingly between his hand and Louis. “How’d you like the show?”

“I enjoyed it,” Louis told him graciously. “You have this way with the crowd that I wish we saw more in artists.”

“Don’t take those words to heart just yet. The whole tour will be criticized once that article is out,” Maurice laughed, holding his cigarette between his teeth while he discarded.

“Watch it, man,” Harry glared at him. “He’s a friend. If I can trust him, so can you.”

It was Louis’ turn. He picked up from the pile, took a quick look at his hand, kept the new card, and threw down the four of clubs.

“Why should we trust him? You can’t trust the enemy,” Doc scoffed.

“Look, man, it’s nothing against you personally.” Vinny waved a hand in the air with his palm to the ceiling as he spoke. “I’m sure you appreciate music and think you’re doing a good thing here, but so do we. People like you can stop that from happening for us.”

Considering Louis believed his job to be practically the essence of his life, it was hard to not take it personally. “If you can bring in the fans and sell albums, how is what I’m doing hurting you?”

“You give artists who don’t deserve it a bad rap,” Maurice claimed.

“Elvis Presley sleeps with underage girls and still holds title as the king of rock ‘n’ roll. You think he deserves that?” Louis mentioned without looking up.

“Well, that isn’t about the music. Besides, he’s married.”

“Elvis doesn’t even write his own shit. And having a wife doesn’t stop him from sleeping around.”

“Just like having a girlfriend back home doesn’t stop you,” Doc smirked back at Maurice.

“Watch it,” Maurice sneered.

“So what about the good guys? The singer-songwriters who make good shit and are still trashed by the press?” Vinny wondered. He leaned back after taking his turn, looking genuinely interested in Louis’ answer.

“I’m not saying it’s fair. I just think people eventually get what they deserve. You think your music is good, but critics don’t seem to give a shit? Fuck ‘em. Make music until fans are selling out your shows and screaming your name from the crowd. Eventually, the critics will catch on. By then, you probably won’t care anyway.”

Harry looked at him curiously. “If that’s how you feel, then why are you in this field?”

Louis shrugged, glancing towards him. “I’m a fan first.”

It was his turn again so he picked up, looked at his hand, and threw down the ten of diamonds. He folded his arms together on the table, cards face down against his upper arm.

“So?” Maurice said, finishing the rest of his drink.

“ _So_ , I care about music. I like writing, and considering I just wrote a cover story on the Woodstock festival that’s going to make stands tomorrow, I’d say I’m pretty damn good at it. But I’m shit at playing instruments. This was the compromise.”

Doc rolled his eyes. “Becoming the enemy.”

“Telling the truth.”

Harry’s eyes darted upward towards him. Louis couldn’t read his expression, but his sharp gaze was trying to say something.

“It’s your turn,” Vinny said to Louis.

He hit his knuckles lightly on the table. “I knock,” he said.

Maurice stamped out his cigarette into the ashtray. “It’s been three rounds and he doesn’t play blackjack. He’s bluffing.” There was a bite in his tone.

No one said anything until everyone finished their last turn. Louis didn’t bother defending himself anymore. He said his piece. He knew where he stood.

Everyone placed their cards on the table face-up. Harry had twenty-five, Vinny had twenty-nine, Doc had twenty-one, Maurice had thirty, and Louis had a two of diamonds, a two of spades, and a two of hearts. Thirty and a half.

“It was nice playing with you guys,” Louis grinned as he put out the rest of his cigarette and placed both hands on the table to push himself up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab another drink.”

The table was silent until he was on his feet.

“I’ll come with you,” Harry quickly said, then turned back to the others. “You can start another game without us.”

Louis was too far away now to decipher the mumblings. Another beer sounded like it would go great with his ego right about now, but then he found the bottle of Jack. He picked up a clear plastic cup off a stack and filled the bottom.

“Mind pouring me one too?” Harry asked. Louis took another cup and eyeballed a couple of ounces, give or take.

“I should’ve put money on that game,” Louis said with pride as he handed over the drink, then leaned against the counter to sip his own. Jack wasn’t his favourite, but it was available and had more power than beer.

“I wasn’t aware that you were so good at cards,” Harry said, sounding impressed. The ground felt like it started moving beneath their feet. Louis realized the bus was finally leaving. They’d be driving all night to get to Los Angeles early in the morning.

“I’m not,” Louis shrugged. “Lucky round, I guess.”

Harry tilted his head. “You believe in luck?”

Louis bit his lips together, a crease between his eyebrows. He hadn’t ever really thought about that. Questioning his beliefs wasn’t something he’d done much since that philosophy class he failed in his second year of college. Socrates may not agree, but Louis found life much easier to get through without the constant moral checkup.

“I guess so. Luck and coincidence kind of go together, I think.”

Where they were standing seemed to be right where everyone wanted to pass through, so Harry slid himself on the counter to get as much out the way as he could. Louis was glad to join him just to get off his feet.

“What about plain old hard work? Wouldn’t you say you got to where you were now because of that?” Harry wondered.

“Oh, definitely,” Louis agreed. “But I also wouldn’t have if I didn’t happen to walk into the _Rolling Stone_ office as they were firing the newest intern for slacking off. Or if I didn’t read this amazing piece on Martin Luther King Jr. leading the march in Selma in my first year that made me realize that I wanted to write about history before that’s all it is. Or if I didn’t happen to meet a kid at what ended up being the biggest music festival ever, who was willing to sneak backstage with me. Because let me tell ya’, I wouldn’t have invited you back to hang out with us. That was all him.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I supposed I was kind of a dick to you, wasn’t I?” He downed his drink in one go and poured another. Louis didn’t intend for these to be shots, but he wasn’t stopping him.

“And look at you.” Louis waved a circle in front of Harry. “People don’t sell out tours _just_ because they relentlessly wrote a couple good songs and begged bar owners to let them play. Artists get big because the right agent happened to walk into the bar at the right time, or your demo happened to be at the top of the pile on a producer’s desk when he was getting desperate. It’s all luck and coincidence. That’s how life happens. A series of being at the right or wrong place and the right or wrong time. There’s no pattern. It’s fucking chaos, and we try to make sense by pretending we have control of it ourselves.”

“And we all put on an act to look like we’re just as put together as the next person,” Harry said in agreement. “But none of us have any clue.”

Louis swallowed the rest of his drink but didn’t pour any more. He felt like he had a good enough buzz right now, and he liked where this conversation was going. If they stayed on track, he might be able to get some great stuff for the piece. He just had to get Harry’s permission to go on record.

“Is there anywhere we can go that’s a little quieter?” he wondered.

Harry leaned in closer. He had this dazed look in his eye and a smirk on his lips. “I thought you said you wanted to wait?” he reminded him, but looked willing to break that deal if Louis was.

“I was actually thinking we could get started on a few questions. Seven days is a lot to cover.”

Harry frowned. Clearly, that wasn’t the reasoning he was hoping for.

“It’s the first night of tour,” he said, his face still quite close. “You’re not working yet. You’re joining the party.”

Harry took Louis’ cup and tilted the bottle of Jack for much longer than any bottle of straight alcohol should be poured for. When he held it up, Louis cringed.

“You’re trying to kill me, Styles,” he groaned. The last name thing sounded much cooler when Harry was the one using it. Louis never felt cool, but drinking sometimes helped.

“If you’re lucky, you won’t even remember this by morning,” Harry told him. He said it with a smile, but the words came from somewhere that sounded less than pleasant.

Louis threw his head back to down as much of the drink as he could then let himself blend into the party. He was already sending apologies to his tomorrow self. Then again, the best stories aren’t told from the sidelines; they’re told from experience.

 


	3. Day 2 - Los Angeles

Louis was never good at hangovers. There was a way to be good at hangovers. College teaches you all the tricks. One way was to be a good drunk who consumes enough water and inhales a few saltines before passing out and hoping your alarm would wake you up in time for your lecture at one in the afternoon. The second was to shower and take all the painkillers you could as soon as you woke up, and then chase your burnt-toast breakfast with a shot of vodka to start your day. Louis’ drunk self was never responsible enough to drink water, he had no clue where to find any pain killers around here, and the smell of burnt toast alone would make his stomach churn. That only left him with one option: to suffer through it.

There were many strange places Louis had woken up at in his life. Stranger’s couches, bathroom floors, the back of a lecture hall, a van at a music festival… But this morning, he felt like he woke up in a coffin. He was facing a wall, his pillow was squished against another wall, and if his stretched his legs far enough, there was the third wall. With a slow, painful stretch, Louis turned onto his back. The ceiling was a little too close, further proving his coffin theory. The feeling of death sure was prominent at the moment. He had little memory of the night before, but every muscle in his body ached and his mouth tasted absolutely wretched. 

Hangovers were the worst.

One more turn onto his other side debunked his coffin theory. Instead of a third wall, he was met with a black curtain shielding him from the rest of the occupants of the bus. At risk of being seen in what he could only imagine wasn’t a pleasant state, he decided to leave it closed until he could will his feet to actually stand on the ground. He wondered if a coffin would be more comfortable than this bunk. If he eventually had to stay in there for eternity, he sure hoped so.

As it turned out, just waiting in the dark for a hangover to pass didn’t work. He needed water, and desperately. Not only that, but he actually needed to work today, considering he only had about six days of this tour left. This interview was more important than making it to a lecture on time. It wouldn’t break his career, but it might just make it. Woodstock was an easy commentary that was topical enough to get readers. This was a profile, and his quality of work had to speak for itself. Maybe he really would have to eat that burnt toast.

Just as he was about to slide the curtain open, the sun violently hit his eyes on its own. Louis threw a hand over his face and dropped himself onto his back with a groan, but a set of keys landed with him on his stomach.

“That’s for your room. We have the whole twenty-first floor for the night so your room number is on there.”

It had only been a day but Louis could already recognize Patty’s assertive voice anywhere.

“What time is it?” he asked, his throat dry and raw. He really needed that water, but he could still barely open his eyes.

Patty always talked so fast it was hard to gather everything she said, especially when Louis was barely even awake. He couldn’t imagine how fast her thoughts must’ve moved up there. “It’s nearly noon. If you need Harry to get started on that interview- which I suggest you do soon since he’s been writing all morning and has to leave for radio interviews at two in order to be in soundcheck by five-  he’s up in his room. Shouldn’t be too hard to find. Looks like you two are neighbours.” 

Louis peeked one eye open long enough to watch her grin, knock twice on the wall, and walk away with her ponytail bouncing behind her.

That was it, Louis decided as he forced himself out of bed, letting the blanket fall behind him wherever it may. No more partying and no more dicking around. He had to take this seriously. Tour life and rock and roll cliches be damned. He was here for a reason and it was to write the best piece his hands and brain were capable of. If this week went well, he’d have plenty of more time down the road for wild and fun nights like he assumed last night was. The memories were quite hazy, if he was being honest. Waking up alone and in that bunk, he decided, was a good sign. Better than the back of a lecture hall.

Sobriety was the only answer. No more drinking for the next week. Cigarettes were always fine, maybe a few drags if a joint was going around, but that was just creative stimulation. Alcohol did nothing but make him act like a drunken buffoon until he passed out. And gave him wicked hangovers. That was half the reason to stay sober right there.

Finding his duffle bag squished into the booth he remembered playing cards at last night, Louis pulled out a t-shirt and some pants to get changed. Everyone else was either still asleep or had already vacated the bus, the latter seeming more likely, so privacy wasn’t much of an issue. He then downed about three cups of water, barely saving time to take a breath between them. 

With his bag slung over his shoulder, Louis hopped down the steps and onto the half empty parking lot behind the hotel. Once he was able to figure out which back door was unlocked and where exactly the elevators were, he hit the button for the twenty-first floor. Part of him considered going right to his room and taking a nap, but he had work to do, and according to Patty, only about two hours to do it.

Room 2103 was easy enough to find at the end of the rough Berber carpeted hallway. Louis slid the key in, twisted the lock open, and walked into exactly what he was expecting. A desk, a bed, and a bathroom. All he needed, really. Once he had his notebook and recorder, he tossed his duffle bag on his bed and was back on his mission.

Patty said that he and Harry were neighbours, which gave him two options for which room was his. The first had the lock jammed in the doorway to keep it propped open. He could hear the laughter and music from the hallway and wondered if a new party was already starting or if the one from last night was just continuing. The other had a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hanging on the door. He knocked on that one without a second thought.

“Go away!” said the voice on the other side of the door, distinctly belonging to Harry.

“It’s Louis!”

For a moment it was quiet, and just as Louis thought at Harry had decided to ignore him altogether and was about to knock again, the door opened.

“Hey,” he smiled as his head poked out of the top of his shirt. He stepped out of the way to let Louis in as he pushed his arms through each sleeve. “Sorry, I thought you were Vinny. He kept bugging me for-” but he stopped himself and instead started picking up his own clothes off the floor and trying to make the mess of bedsheets a little cleaner. “Sorry it’s such a mess. I came up to the room as soon as we got here and slept for another three hours, I think. Then I woke up with an idea for a melody and never got around to tidying.”

“Don’t worry, I woke up on the bus like twenty minutes ago,” Louis said, looking around the room as he slowly sauntered in. He was surprised that it wasn’t much different from his own. The bathroom looked a little bigger and there were a couch and chair opposite of the bed, but besides that, it was basically the same.

“They claim those bunks are comfortable, but I always feel like I’m sleeping in a coffin.”

Louis laughed. “Yeah, I could see that.”

“So...” Harry rubbed his hands together a little awkwardly. “What’s up?”

“Oh, well I was hoping we could get started on the interview. Just a few easy questions to get the ball rolling. I know you have a lot on your schedule today so we can just pick up again tomorrow.”

“Uh, sure,” Harry nodded hesitantly. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on a bottle of whiskey that was sitting on the bedside table. Never something that indicates a stable being, but it also didn’t seem that surprising given last night. “Can I get you a drink before we start?” he offered.

It was barely the afternoon and Louis already made that promise of sobriety to himself this morning. Breaking that now would just be sad, if nothing else. “I’m alright, but you go ahead.”

Harry was much less hesitant about it.

He poured a small drink like you’d see lawyers or businessmen sip on as they were about to close a deal. Louis made himself comfortable on the chair, leaving Harry the whole couch to relax on. If he sat on the couch, he knew Harry would sit next to him. Distance made the situation feel more professional, and that’s what this needed to be. Louis still felt like he was treading on thin ice, but he had Harry’s trust, and that’s all he needed. 

As Harry collapsed on the end opposite him, he stretched one arm across the back rest and crossed one leg over the other. He crossed at the knees, Louis noticed, instead of one ankle rested on his upper thigh. It looked more dignified but felt more closed off. He could already tell by the narrow look in Harry’s eye that he wasn’t going to get much out of today. That was okay though, he reminded himself. It was only the first day.

“Harry, do you enjoy touring?” he asked, his head rested on the fist he was clicking his pen in.

“Is that the first question?”

“It wasn’t going to be, but now I’m genuinely curious.”

“You don’t want to ask where I see myself in five years? What I like more, songwriting or performing?”

Louis leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen on his open notebook. The recorder sat on his arm rest, but he was yet to begin the recording. “You see yourself where every artist wants to see themself. Touring bigger venues, selling more albums, making more fans. And you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t like both. Which one you like more doesn’t matter.”

Smiling over his glass, Harry took a tiny sip. “You’re almost two for two. I’d give you one and a half.”

“Which part was I wrong about?”

Harry’s eyes flickered to the recorder, then to Louis’ hands as they reached for that red dotted button. He cleared his throat. “Of course I like touring,” he said. “It’s still strange to see the look on people’s faces as they hear you play. Especially when they hear certain words and phrases in the lyrics. I never say what my lyrics mean to me, but I do wonder what they mean to other people.”

“Why don’t you like sharing what they mean?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s just an interpretation. Why should my opinion mean any more?”

“Well, you wrote it.”

“That doesn’t mean shit, man.”

As Louis scribbled down notes, he could see Harry clenching his jaw out of the corner of his eye. It was getting harder to focus when he just wanted to know what he was thinking.

But the focus was quickly torn away from them both. The walls were thin enough that the stomping of running feet could be heard before the door swung open. Vinny, Maurice, and Doc piled into the room, another familiar face joining them.

“Look who was in the neighbourhood,” Vinny announced, his arm slung around the shoulders of their guest.

“Niall! How’s it going?” Harry stood up to greet him with a handshake that turned into a hug. The rest of the guys made themselves at home, helping themselves to whatever Harry had lying around. Not even one night here and the place already resembled Louis’ old dorm room.

Louis closed his notebook and hit stop on the recorder. It was clear their conversation was over. Maybe he could just observe and take notes for later. At least it would be something.

Niall walked with a limp and one crutch, but his spirits were high as always. Instead of a cast, his foot was wrapped in a tensor bandage.

“So, not broken after all?” Louis asked.

“Hey, man! What are you doing here?” He said in surprise as he limped across the room to give Louis a one-armed hug.

Maurice looked at them both with a creased brow. “You know the Enemy?”

“Met ‘im at that music festival, same way Harry did,” Niall told him.

“Right,” Doc said slowly, waving a finger at him. “You guys stayed back for that. Heard it was chaos.”

“It was,” Niall laughed, lifting his crutch in the air and waving it. “Wouldn’t take any of it back, though.”

Harry didn’t say he agreed, but he smiled at the ground and that said a lot more.

“We were just about to grab some food before soundcheck. You guys want to come?” Vinny asked. Harry was already reaching for his jacket. It was brown and leather and didn’t go at all with Louis’ preconceived idea of his style, but he wore it well.

“You coming too?” Harry looked at Louis. He didn’t want to say no. Besides, he could get some good material by watching Harry interact with his friends - where he was most comfortable. And even though it had only been two weeks, he wouldn’t mind catching up with Niall as well. He could see them being friends for a while. His personality was Louis’ favourite type when it came to musicians. A talented guy that didn’t give a shit about fame, even though he had a good amount of it. He liked to write songs, play shows, then head back and grab a couple drinks with his friends. How many people were listening and watching was never a real concern. Someone who felt that way without faking it was rare.

“Sure,” Louis nodded. “Just let me grab something from my room.” It was his bag that he wanted to get. He needed something to carry his notebook in, after all.

 

Louis didn’t know what he expected out of lunch, but really it was just lunch. They all sat at a table, ate some good food, talked and laughed. After last night, maybe he was expecting a party. For people to drink too much and do something stupid, even if it was in the middle of the day. Since his first night fulfilled all his cliched expectations, he assumed the rest of the week would as well. But this was far more enjoyable. Plus, Louis got to have some coffee - the third hangover cure he’d forgotten about, and arguably the simplest. He wished he could be the black coffee type, needing nothing but liquid caffeine cursing through his veins, but without cream and sugar it was almost unbearable. 

Afterword, they headed back to the hotel only long enough to shower and get changed before going straight to soundcheck. Harry had to leave early for those short radio interviews, but that didn’t stop the rest of them from continuing to hang out. Louis tagged along to the theatre after, having Niall to keep him company as they listened from a pair of seats they claimed in the stands. Roadies and theatre workers were still moving all around the floor section, setting up for the show and consolidating with each other about the hundreds of precautions that the average person probably never considered. And because of that, neither of them were paying much attention. Niall had his sprained foot propped up on the chair in front of him, and Louis was twisted so his bent arm could rest on the back of his chair.

“So,” Niall said casually. “How’d you do it? How’d you convince him to agree to a cover story?”

“Harry?”

“Who else?”

Louis shrugged because he actually wasn’t too sure. He didn’t convince Harry to do anything. Coming along on the tour wasn’t even his idea, it was Harry’s. The intentions may not have been completely pure, but Louis asked him again and again if he was sure he wanted to do this; if the interview really would be something he was comfortable with, and he said yes.

“Maybe he was finally ready to introduce himself to the world,” he said. It was the only thing he could think to say that left out enough details.

Niall shook his head slowly, almost laughing. “No, he’s not. You do know you’re never going to get the truth out of him, right? Everything he says, it’s just a story. He’s terrified of being that exposed. The personality, that’s real. He’s charming, he’s funny, he can work a crowd, but the person isn’t. I have this theory that the only reason he uses his real name is that it’s so ridiculous that no one would believe it isn’t a stage name.”

“You ever ask him about it?”

“I think if I did, he’d tell me I’m right, or he’d tell me that it’s been a stage name all along. Then I’d still be left wondering what the truth is. That’s what he does to you.”

There seemed to be a word that was being tiptoed around with this explanation, and Louis wasn’t too fond of being implicit. “So he’s a liar?”

Right then, Vinny let a string of notes blast from his guitar, scaring them both to attention. Either the volume was too high or a nearly empty theatre made everything much louder. Their focus was quickly brought back once their pulses recovered.

“Yes and no,” Niall said. Louis always hated that answer. It just meant the worse option of the two, but a following explanation was required. Maybe what Louis really hated was the sugar coating. If he was going to be given a hard pill to swallow, having it taste like cherries wasn’t going to make it go down any easier. Either way, that pill was still going to do whatever it was meant to.

“He never has any malicious intent,” Niall continued. “He likes people, genuinely. He cares about them a lot. I think he has trouble with how they perceive him. Having a mask is easier when you’ve got as many secrets as him.”

That sparked Louis’ interest. “What kind of secrets?”

“Hell if I know. But no one acts the way he does without having any secrets.”

“I thought you said you only knew each other in passing?”

“We’ve passed each other a lot.”

The band roared to life without warning. They were going through the setlist half a song at a time. Louis kind of wished they could turn it down because this conversation was proving to be the most useful one he’d had in the last two days, but he supposed that kind of ruined the point of a soundcheck.

“So what are you getting at here?” Louis waved a hand in the air. “Don’t trust him? Don’t do the interview?” His own opinion still stood regardless of what Niall said. In some ways, maybe Harry was a liar. But they shared a few moments that couldn’t have been anything short of the truth. It was the most real Louis had ever felt.

Niall thought for a moment before speaking, then turned his head from the stage to Louis. “The biggest mistake you could ever make while getting to know someone is assuming that you already do. Go into this without expectations. Ask questions, but don’t seek out answers. Eventually, you’ll stumble into something you can work with.”

Niall was right. No matter how many phone calls or intimate moments you’ve shared, you can’t claim to know someone after only meeting them two weeks prior. Louis may have known Harry’s name and face for a while, but there was a person there that he had only just met. He may have taken one of those masks off, but it only revealed a new one underneath. There had to be a few more layers to go.

“Having a nice chat, boys?” Harry said into his microphone, shielding his eyes from the bright stage lights with the back of his hand. He couldn’t actually hear what they were saying, obviously, but he still wanted their attention. “Eyes up here.” He motioned from his chest, upwards, then sent them a wink.

Niall laughed as he crossed his arms over his chest. Harry was counting the band into the next song. With his eyes on the stage, Niall leaned closer to Louis. “Good luck, man,” he said. 

Louis felt like he was going to need it now more than ever.

 

Los Angeles: City of Angels, City of Stars, and City of After-Parties. At this point, it was exactly what Louis expected. It was only night two, so no one was worn out yet, and Los Angeles was home base for the industry. The after-party wasn’t spent on a tour bus, making the driver wish that curtain between him and the rest of the bus was sound proof. It wasn’t in a bar or club either, which Louis was grateful for because he hated clubs. Bars were okay for getting a drink after work or meeting up with an old friend, but anything that involved strangers and intoxicating substances was not a mix he particularly enjoyed.

Which he supposed was still kind of what this was, but he was staying sober. He was committed.

Niall, as it turned out, was also sticking to his promise of sobriety. That foot injury really must’ve set him straight because of all things, he was drinking water. Not even vodka disguised as water, which he proved by making Louis take a sip just to confirm: plain old water.

Harry was yet to be found since the show ended. Louis had watched from side stage and hung out with the guys, happily waiting until it was over with the hope that  _ maybe _ he could get a few questions in, but he also knew that wasn’t going to happen. Today was a good start, don’t get him wrong. But being around Harry all day didn’t mean getting to know him when they never really got to talk. Jokes around a lunch table with five other guys did not count as talking.

When he walked down those steps, handing his guitar off without stopping, Harry caught his eye and sent him a wink. It was the second one today and Louis was starting to like it. “I’ll meet you at the hotel,” he said. Louis didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he knew what it implied.

He couldn’t avoid the hotel, though, and upon his arrival via Niall’s driver, he quickly realized that his suspicions were slightly off. This, the chaos of the hotel lobby, was the after party.

If Louis thought the tour bus was the rock and roll cliche, he had to be mistaken. This was the cliche. People were everywhere, littering the furniture and hallways, spilling out of hotel room doors. Drinks were abundant and smoking any substance seemed to be permitted anywhere. No music was coming from radios or speakers. Instead, it was from the people holding guitars with fans and friends hanging around them. Louis hated the word “groupie”, but if he had to explain the type of people who were here, that would be the clearest word to use. Maurice, however, with his arm around a girl who already had his room key tucked into her bra, didn’t seem like the type to shy away from using the label.

“You seen Harry around?” Louis asked him, not really caring what he was interrupting. The girl smiled kindly at him, and he really hoped Maurice wasn’t as much of a sleaze bag as he was letting off, for her sake.

“Probably upstairs, if you can’t find him. But if that’s the case, he might be wanting a little privacy,” he said, puffing on a cigarette with a look that added, “ _ if you know what I mean… _ ”

Louis nodded slowly. He couldn’t tell if Maurice was trying to mess with him or if he actually thought he was making Harry look cooler. “Those things’ll kill you,” he said, taking a step away.

“Yeah? Let me know what brand you smoke. Maybe they’ll be better for me,” Maurice quipped.

The girl laughed, then leaned in to kiss him much more intensely than anyone would want to bear witness to. Giving them privacy was something Louis had no problem with whatsoever. It was still likely that Harry was up in his room, so he headed for the elevators.

Because they had rented out the entire floor, this was where the party continued. In fact, this seemed more like the height of it all. Every room he walked by had people passing a joint or bottle, gathered around a guitar, partaking in activities that would probably better with the door closed, and some were all of the above. It wasn’t as wild as he expected, but the scale of it threw him for a loop. He recognized some faces for sure - faces that wouldn’t recognize him - but being surrounded by fans already, he didn’t want to go up to anyone and look like some kid who snuck in. He was that kid once, but now he had the press pass and keys to his room on the same floor as the band. It didn’t make him better than them, but he wasn’t going to lie and say it didn’t feel like that.

As it turned out, Harry wasn’t too hard to find, and it wasn’t because he had company in his locked hotel room. Instead, Louis found him sat on the floor in the hallway next to a girl who was taking a hit of a joint they were sharing.

“Hey!” Harry said brightly as Louis approached them. “Where’ve you been? I was looking for you.”

“Clearly,” Louis said. He wasn’t bitter, but the sarcastic tone just flowed out naturally. Harry didn’t notice. Instead, he pushed himself onto his feet, and the girl did the same.

“This is my new friend,” Harry grinned, stepping to the side as she extended her hand.

All at once, the colour drained from Louis’ face. 

“Nice to meet you,” she said pleasantly. “I’m Deja-”

“Vu,” Louis said, even though he knew that wasn’t what she was going to finish her sentence with. But that’s what he was feeling right now. Or maybe not, because he knew he’d been in this same situation before. This was the third time they shook hands in greeting.

“I do get that a lot, yeah,” she laughed. Louis wanted to say more because he knew there was no way she didn’t know who he was, but explaining all of that in front of Harry was not something he could easily do.

Clearing his throat, Louis threw in a smile and said, “Nice to meet you too.” Because it was. For the third time.

“I hear you’re a music journalist,” she said, leaning her hip against the wall. Harry stood between them, still engaged in the conversation.

“Uh, yes. That’s why I’m here.”

“And to, you know, hang out,” Harry added passively. He had a drink in his hand that he took a swig from. The joint had apparently disappeared. “You’re dry,” he pointed out, noticing the lack of cup or bottle in Louis’ hand. “Let me get you something.”

“Oh, I’m okay, but thanks,” Louis said.

“You sure? Whatever you want is probably around here somewhere,” Harry pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Or are you hungry? We could order some food.”

Louis gave him a funny look. “I’m fine, Harry. Besides, Niall gave me some of his water, so I’m good,” he joked.

“Are you sure?” Harry’s finger was tapping rapidly against the glass bottle. His wide eyes scanned the room more than they were making contact with anyone else. Rather than looking for anyone, he just seemed very aware of his surroundings.

“Is everything alright with you? You seem a little on edge,” Louis commented. Deja was offering a similar look of concern. He noticed she wasn’t drinking anything either.

“Of course! I just had a great show and I’m surrounded by great friends. What could be wrong?”

“ _ All _ these people are your friends?” Louis raised an eyebrow. Surrounding yourself with people, no matter how well you actually know them, is a method notorious for masking loneliness, but never good for curing it.

Harry barely heard the comment. His eyes were everywhere else, along with his attention. Looking nervously between them, Deja quickly said, “It really was a great show!”

Louis didn’t remember seeing her there. She must’ve been watching from the crowd, or she found another great way to disguise herself. The latter was more likely.

“Thanks!” Harry grinned brightly at her. “Hey, you should join us on tour! Even just for a little while, like Louis is. It’ll be fun!”

“Oh, I don’t know if-”

“I’ll go find Patty. I just have to let her know.”

With that, he pushed his nearly empty bottle towards Louis and disappeared into the crowd. Louis turned to watch him leave, but he barely left a trace. With a sigh, he looked back to where Deja was standing, but she was gone too. 

Louis just shook his head. People in this scene were known for their mysterious ways, but he didn’t know how much of the erratic behaviour he could take. With that, the only choice he had was to follow him. 

He couldn’t actually be after Patty because he had to know she wouldn’t be here. She was at the venue long before he got there and left long after he did. Following the back of Harry’s head, Louis squeezed through the crowd. He was moving fast and it was becoming hard to keep up. At the end of the hall, he stopped to talk to Vinny next to the elevators. Louis was about to say hello, and get to the bottom of what the hell was going on with him, when Doc’s face popped up in front of him.

“Hey, it’s the Enemy,” he said, a grin on his face despite the nickname that was getting old fast.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Louis said politely, even though his eyes were still looking over his shoulder at Harry. Vinny looked to be whispering something to him, then he nodded, eyes briefly meeting Louis’ across the room. Just as quickly, he averted his glance when another person joined the conversation. A young guy, indistinguishable from every other kid around here.

“... so, you know, if you wanted to meet with us too, it’s all cool with him. It’ll be totally uncensored. Well, relatively uncensored, but…” 

Doc kept talking, but to Louis, it was just background noise. When the elevator arrived, Harry and Vinny got on, waving a quick goodbye to the new guy. Louis wasn’t at a good enough angle to see what direction they were headed in.

He almost followed them, but he thought better of it. If Harry wanted him to follow, he would’ve waved him over too. He had no obligation to be around Louis all the time, making sure he was taken care of. They just had to talk when they had the chance, and that was it. Louis was the one who made it clear that they couldn’t have anything else between them right now. Maybe he should’ve stopped trying to be his friend too. It’s hard to write about your friends. You aren’t as truthful about people you hold a bias towards, and Louis was already pretty biased.

“Can we catch up tomorrow?” Louis asked, patting Doc’s arm and trying to sound friendly.

“Like, as an interview?” He sounded hopeful.

“Uh, sure, yeah. I’m sure I can come up with some questions.”

_ Number one: what exactly is Harry’s deal? _

“Cool. I’ll save you a spot on the bus,” Doc pointed a finger gun at him before walking away.

Louis, quite frankly, couldn’t wait to get out of there. He found his room at the end of the hall, one of the only few that were still locked and closed. Harry’s was locked too, but he was well aware that he wasn’t in there. Opening his own door, he squeezed himself in as if he had to keep people out. An open door seemed to be some sort of invitation around here. He closed it and folded the latch over so it locked twice. The isolation was gladly welcome as he collapsed forwards into his bed. The increasing noise outside indicated the party was in full swing with no signs of stopping anytime soon, but at least he had a wall between everyone else.

Flipping to a new page, Louis wrote down everything he could remember that happened in the last two days. Every relevant detail, the general conversation topics he could remember, the way Harry interacted with the crew and the rest of the band, which was with the the utmost kindness. He remembered everyone’s names and the details of their lives. Not only that, but he genuinely cared, even if he was just asking someone how their day was going. He wouldn’t get uncomfortable with a detailed answer, which was rare in any ordinary person. Sometimes Louis got annoyed when someone chose to sit next to him on the bus when there were open seats next to other strangers. Harry would probably welcome conversation with a stranger on a bus. It kind of made him feel like an asshole.

The people outside his room were bothering him less and less as he wrote, their voices becoming white noise as he laid against the pillows with his notebook rested on his propped up knees. It was nothing comprehensive or even close to how this article would end up, but it was an outline. He even got some more questions down, and questions for the band like Doc requested. He wasn’t sure how useful they would be, but maybe the answers would spark something interesting.

A crash from across the hall startled Louis’ in his thoughts, but the following howls of laughter drailed his concern. If he didn’t see it, it wasn’t his problem. Tossing his notebook to the other side of the bed, he slid down further so his head was squished into the pillows and the blankets were tucked under his neck.

He wondered what Harry was doing. As much as he shouldn’t have cared, he couldn’t help his thoughts from wondering. This whole life Harry lived on tour, Louis couldn’t even pretend he knew or understood. But that was the point, wasn’t it? To find out who Harry really was. Unveil the mystery behind the rapid success. He should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy, but two days in and discouragement was starting to get to him. His own perception was easy to record, but he still had no idea what was going on in Harry’s head.

When he agreed to this, Louis just wanted to be with him, whatever that meant. The article was a great excuse to be here, to give his career a little boost, and to get to know him. That last part felt most important, but maybe he was going about this the wrong way.

If only he didn’t make that promise to his boss, or the understanding with Harry. Maybe he was getting himself in too deep, because now there felt like no way out but to follow through, and he still couldn’t tell how any of this would turn out.  _ Any _ of it.

But there was always tomorrow.


	4. Day 3 - Phoenix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for waiting so long to update! My next semester at uni just started so I wanted to give myself a week to catch up so the rest of the parts can hopefully be out on time. This update is pretty long so I hope that makes up for it. As always, thanks for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!

Doc didn’t exactly have a lot to say. Don’t get it twisted, he said a lot, but whether anything actually held any substance was questionable, to say the least. 

Louis sat opposite him at one of the two tables on the bus. The crew all left LA late last night to get there early enough to set up, but the rest of them would be taking the day to drive to Phoenix. Louis wasn’t much for road trips to begin with, but this was over five hours with Harry in the same enclosed space with minimal distractions, and Louis woke up with a new and inspired mindset. 

That would all be great if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry had been taking his turn to sleep off an apparent hangover in his bunk at the back of the bus for the last two hours. And Louis, consequently, had the  _ pleasure _ of interviewing Doc while he waited for him to wake up, if that ever happened before they arrived. 

The recorder sat between them, the button clicked down and the knobs on the tape spinning. As Doc talked, answering a question Louis wasn’t even sure he asked, Louis covered his dragged-out yawn with the back of his hand. It may have looked a bit rude, but his sleep last night did not go uninterrupted. He was starting to envy Harry’s decision to sleep the day away.

“... I wouldn’t say it’s a thankless job being in the background, exactly. I just think everyone wants their chance in the spotlight. But this has been a great experience, you know? Like, it’s cool to be on the road now and learn all the ropes before I go out on my own. Or maybe not, like if the others guys wanted to-”

“Afternoon, Jack,” Maurice said from the couch where he was plucking away at his guitar strings, a smug grin on his face.

Heads turned as Harry emerged from the back of the bus, still looking half asleep. The bagginess of his shirt reflected the current state of the skin underneath his eyes, and his lack of pants made his state of mind pretty clear.

He gave Maurice and odd look as he opened the cupboard. “Jack?” he said, raising an eyebrow as he started peeling a banana.

“Would you prefer Daniel?” he smirked. Doc snorted, the only one to humour him.

“You’re hilarious,” Harry deadpanned, sliding into the booth opposite Louis and Doc. He slouched forward, his elbows rested on the table. Louis was watching him as he chewed, every muscle in his jaw clenching with the bite. It didn’t take long for Harry to notice the staring.

He stopped chewing. Louis cleared his throat, then asked, “Long night?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Not long enough, if you count the sleeping part.”

“I hear burnt toast is great for hangovers,” Louis mentioned.

“Yeah?” Harry stood up to take a peek into the same cupboard. He pulled out the loaf of bread, then looked back at him. “We don’t have a toaster,” he said.

“I’m sure a peanut butter sandwich would also do the trick.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Harry pointed a finger at him then reached for the jar of peanut butter. Instead of taking out a few slices to go with it, he put the loaf back and stuck a spoon in the jar to bring back to the table with him. That was a college breakfast if Louis ever saw one.

Hitting stop on the recorder, Louis turned to Doc again. “Is it alright with you if we finish this later?”

“Yeah, just come find me whenever,” Doc grinned, patting the table as he stood up.

Louis scribbled the last of his notes down then turned to the page with more questions for Harry. The list had gotten even longer since San Francisco, and it started out pretty long to begin with. Just as he was deep in his thoughts, they were all interrupted when Harry slowly took up the spot that Doc had just left unclaimed. He sighed as he settled in, the jar of peanut butter still in his hand.

Louis’ eyes flickered up. “Hey,” he said.

“What happened to you last night?” Harry asked, licking a scoop off his spoon.

“Me?” Leaning back, Louis slowly rested the pen on his page. “You left early with Vinny. I had some work to do so I just went back to my room.”

He followed Harry’s eyes which fell on Vinny, who was sleeping in the couch near the front of the bus. The two of them were in the same boat in terms of lack of sleep and apparent hangovers, only Vinny couldn’t even make it to his bunk when they got on the bus together this morning.

“I don’t know how you could get work done with all that noise,” Harry laughed.

“I’ve learned to avoid distractions.”

“One day you’ll have to teach me your trick.”

“I’ll tell you right now. It’s to just not care about anything else,” Louis shrugged.

“Nothing?”

“I mean, yeah. Until you don’t mind being distracted.”

The intensity in Harry’s gaze was too much even when they weren’t talking about anything serious, so Louis looked down at his hands to break it. Eye contact was never his strong suit. It’s easier to attach yourself to words than to people, and it’s easier to say something when you don’t have to watch the way someone’s face shifts when you do. Words made sense to Louis in a way feelings never would.

Harry took another scoop of his peanut butter.

“Where did you and Vinny go?” Louis finally asked the question he’d been wondering about since last night. He couldn’t recite a thing that Doc said - that’s what tape recorders are for - but he could tell you every possible answer to that question he could think of as he absentmindedly watched Doc’s mouth move.

“Oh, you know.” Harry waved his spoon in the air. “We were just hanging out.” He thought about it for another moment, then said, “He says I make a good wingman. I wouldn’t do that for most people, but we’ve known each other a long time.” He smiled humorously.

“So you were friends before you started making music?”

“I met him when I started doing bar shows two or three years ago, so I guess it hasn’t actually been  _ that _ long, but it feels like it. He was in another band and I was trying to make it on my own. When I got my first couple gigs, his band had just broken up so I asked him to do a few shows with me and he said yes. He’s played every show since.”

“You know, if you don’t mind, this would be great stuff for the interview.  _ Do _ you mind if…?” Louis was already reaching for the recorder again. Harry’s smile fell as he thought about it for a moment, but ultimately he nodded. “Sure, but, uh, let’s leave it there for Vinny, okay?”

“Um, yeah, okay,” Louis agreed. He flipped through his notes for a moment before deciding on a new question. Harry’s eyes couldn’t be torn from the spinning tape, almost as if he was being mesmerized. “How about the others? Doc and Maurice?” he eventually asked.

“Hired by the record company for the first tour, but they’re great guys. Good friends.”

Something about that button closed Harry off. Louis just wished he could understand why. He did know why, but he didn’t understand it.

“How about we talk about your album?”

“Shoot.” He settled in, this subject making him a little calmer.

“Since this was your first album, did you find the approach to songwriting difficult in comparison to just performing, or was it something you felt more like you were meant to do?”

“Writing is hard no matter what, and I’m sure you know that. You can’t force an idea. I started writing poetry in high school, then learned guitar because standing on a stage reading out words sounded boring. Standing on a stage with a guitar in your hands and trying to keep your voice on pitch, now that’s how you look cool.”

“You’re known for your broad range, though.”

“Had to learn to control it. You don’t even know how much shit you gotta learn just to go on stage and sell a few records,” he laughed. Louis watched him as he stirred around the jar just so he’d have something for his hands to do while he avoided eye contact. “Turns out fans don’t  _ just  _ love the music. At least that’s what the record company claims. So, yeah, writing the lyrics wasn’t the most difficult part, I guess. But it was hard. All of it is hard.”

“Like what else?”

Louis didn’t write anything down, not even any notes, because he didn’t want to freak Harry out. His recorder would get it all, anyway. But it was like tiptoeing towards a squirrel to feed it an acorn before it ran away. The squirrel wants the acorn but doesn’t want to risk getting hurt by the one feeding it in case it’s just a lure. 

“Sometimes… I guess... the road gets into your head,” he said slowly.

“Could you elaborate?”

He took a deep breath, opening his mouth and stuttering on his first word. “I think it’s the pressure, you know? Be at the right place at the right time. Don’t fuck up the performance. Don’t say anything you’re going to regret. Work on the next album because they want it out by fucking Christmas. Sorry, should I not be cursing?”

“I can work with it,” Louis said. He scribbled down a few more questions he thought of, hoping the relaxed state would stay for just a little while longer.

“Maybe leave out that Christmas part. I probably shouldn’t let that out yet,” he said, watching Louis’ hand move.

“Okay,” Louis said quickly. Technically, all of this was on the record so he could leave it in if he wanted, but he’d rather respect Harry’s wishes. He continued. “What do you need to be able to write? The right room? A certain guitar? A broken heart?”

Harry turned to face outwards, his back against the wall of the bus. “Never had a broken heart,” he said. Despite the admission, the smile he wore was a sad one.

“You have a song called “Heartbroken”,” Louis reminded him, one eyebrow raised.

“That wasn’t about me.”

“So you’re saying you’re the heartbreaker? Or do you find yourself writing from fictional experiences rather than your own?”

“You got a lot of questions.”

Louis smiled. “Well, it’s my job.”

Turning his head, Harry took a squinted glance out the window, watching the cars pass. He sniffed loudly, then stood up with his jar of peanut butter. Louis watched him as he stepped towards the cupboard to find the lid that he left behind. His hands moved slowly until he turned around and leaned against the counter, eyes narrowed. Louis waited quietly, sensing he was still thinking of something to say.

“Gotta be in love to have a broken heart,” he eventually said. He was dodging questions and found quite the corny way to do it.

“So you’ve never been in love?”

“I’ve only been alive for twenty years. How the hell should I know?”

“Fair point.”

“Have  _ you _ ever been in love?”

Louis thought about it, tapping his pen on the table and watching the cars pass just as Harry had. When he was in his sophomore year of college, there was one girl he dated for nearly a year. It was the longest relationship he ever had. Actually, it was the only relationship he ever had. With that said, it never felt as serious as they had claimed it was at the time. The reason was making more sense as of late.

“I think you’d know if you were, so I guess not,” he said.

With a smirk, Harry pushed himself to stand up straight, taking a peek out of the window. The bus was pulling into a truck stop, bringing them to a steady halt. Unconcerned, Louis turned back to his notes.

“Back to your song “Heartbroken”, when you-”

“Want to go grab some food?”

“Huh?”

“All we have in here is bread, bananas, and peanut butter. I don’t know about you, but I could go for more than the Elvis specialty. Let’s go pick up some more snacks.”

“Uh,” Louis stammered, shaking off his thoughts. The material was just getting good. He really thought they were going somewhere with this conversation and actually getting to know each other. Well, he was getting to know Harry. This kind of conversation only really could go one way.

“Be a real person for a second and come take a break. We’ll stretch our legs and get some crappy coffee and oatmeal cream pies. It’s not going to kill you to not analyze your every surrounding for a minute. Trust me, nothing interesting is going to happen at a gas station.”

Louis was about to say yes anyway, but Harry was already grabbing his arm and pulling him up from the table as he headed towards the door. The bus was parked at the far end of the parking lot, and everyone who wasn’t asleep was already off. Last night, Niall mentioned that he was going to come along for a few days since his foot put him on a brief sabbatical from playing with his band. Louis got on the bus with him this morning, but he hadn’t seen him since. That likely put him in the company of the sleepers. Louis was glad Niall decided to come along, though. Nice to see a familiar face when he was stranger to everyone else here.

“You coming, Vin?” Harry asked, stopping to shake his arm. He startled awake, letting out a groan as he stretched his arms. “Come on, man. We’re getting some uh-” he paused to sniff as he pinched his nose “-snacks and stuff. Take a smoke break, if you want.” Then he turned to Louis to say, “Reggie hates it when we smoke on the bus,” referring to their driver. Louis hadn’t seen much of Reggie’s face, but his name came up anytime someone wanted to do something that would be frowned upon on the bus. Most of that involved pot.

“Snacks?” he raised an eyebrow even though his eyes were barely open and he was still lying flat on the couch. Harry nodded, so he said, “I’ll meet you out there in a sec.”

“Alright, man.”

“Oh, and one other thing.”

“Yeah?”

“I know your modesty is dwindling, but nobody out there wants to see you in just your boxers,” he laughed as he sat up, then let out a cough, as smokers do.

“I beg to differ, but as you wish,” Harry quipped, jogging to the back to find a pair of jeans. He was back just as quickly, then patted Louis’ back to lead him to the door. “Shall we?”

As they walked down the steps, Louis was already digging in his pocket for his cigarette pack. He opened the lid and pulled one out with his mouth before lighting it with his other hand. It felt sort of nice to walk around without his bag over his shoulder. At this point, the cramp he’d often get from it felt like a part of his daily life. As the first puff left his mouth, Louis actually let himself relax. It had been a while since he genuinely found himself in a state of relaxation. Even now, he wasn’t really, but the tobacco did a good job tricking his brain.

Leaning against the bus were Maurice and Doc with a couple of girls, one Louis recognized from the first night on the bus. Between the four of them, they were splitting a joint and nodded a greeting to Louis and Harry as they passed. Louis couldn’t help but feel a slight concern every time he saw those guys hanging out with a new face. Good on the girls for likely having the time of their lives following a tour, but he at least hoped that the guys had the decency to treat them with the amount of respect they deserved. He heard too many stories about guys that didn’t know how to follow the rules of human decency. Maurice seemed to check off too many of the same boxes. Something about that guy always seemed off to Louis, but he supposed he didn’t know him well enough yet. Not that he really cared to.

“Have you been enjoying yourself?” Harry asked as they strolled across the parking lot, taking their time with each step since they weren’t in much of a hurry. The desert sun was hot, but so was the bus so getting out of it was a relief. Reggie announced that they had twenty minutes every time he made a stop. His motto was, “ _ Unless your last name is Styles, if you’re not back in twenty then we leave here without ‘ya.”  _ That was how a lot of things went around here.

“Yeah, I have. I mean, it takes some getting used to. To speak candidly, I don’t know how you do it. Being around people who want to party every night, a different city every day for months on end. Do you even know where you are most of the time?”

He meant it partially as a joke, but Harry looked up and took a deep breath. His shoulders fell back comfortably, making what he was about to say apparent that it was something he had considered many times before. “Do you know where the Stones got their name?”

Louis rolled his eyes.  _ Did he ever _ . “The Muddy Waters song,” he said.

“But do you know where the phrase comes from? “ _ Rolling stone _ ”?”

“‘ _ A rolling stone gathers no moss _ ’. Old poem, or something like that.”

“Ancient proverb. “ _ People who are always moving, with no roots in one place or another, avoid responsibilities and cares”,”  _ he recited the words with a smile on his face. “What a way to live, huh?”

“Is that what you think of life on the road?” Louis’ voice was shallow and he blew out more smoke. They had reached the convenience store now, but wordlessly turned around to lean against the wall until he finished his last few puffs.

“Nah,” he shook his head. “Tour has way too many responsibilities to not care. Just life in general, I guess. No one can live that way, not really. But we romanticize it, don’t we? To live in apathy.” He had this twisted sort of smile on his face as he looped his thumbs into the belt loops on his jeans. “To be able to run away and, I don’t know, write poetry on a train through Europe, or sit on a remote beach and watch the sunset every night. Find someone to pretend to love until it scares you. It’s a pipe dream we’ve all had. I’m sure you have one.”

“I want to go to Beirut,” Louis said with an easy smile. “To be in a place surrounded by a language I don’t speak and people I don’t know and will never see again. Find a little place to live in the city for a year and write a book, then get it published in every country and language it can be. That’s my pipe dream.”

He was done with his cigarette now. It was stomped out on the ground in a small pile of ash, but they were still standing there, looking at the landscape of the bus at the forefront of the Phoenix desert. In the middle of nowhere. This was some people’s pipe dream; just to get away.

Louis didn’t even realize Harry was watching him carefully with a grin on his face until he looked up. “I like that,” he said. “I do think you could write a book. That doesn’t sound so crazy.”

“Yeah? Maybe…”

“You don’t have to be in Beirut to do it. As long as you have the right inspiration, you can write anywhere.”

Louis smiled up at him. “One day,” he said. “But right now I could really go for some crappy coffee and an oatmeal cream pie.”

Standing up straight, Harry reached for the handle and pulled the door open, stepping out of the way so Louis could enter first. “After you,” he said with a courteous wave of the hand.

They picked up far more food than they needed, but you couldn’t blame them for shopping on an empty stomach. Well, almost empty. For Harry, the banana and two spoonfuls of peanut butter didn’t quite do the trick. By the time they reached the till they had collected oatmeal cream pies, cheese balls, Pop Tarts, Pringles, licorice, enough Cokes to go around, and even a couple of boxes of cereal and some milk for their own all-day breakfast. The cashier was halfway through filling their paper bags when Vinny walked in.

“You already picked out the snacks?” he said, leaning a hip against the front counter and peeking his head into the first bag.

“I grabbed you cherry Pop Tarts, don’t worry,” Harry assured.

“Ah, you know me well, boss,” Vinny said dramatically, patting his shoulder. “Hey, can I talk to you around back for a second?”

Harry turned to Louis. “Do you mind bringing these back to the bus, or do you think they’re too heavy for one person?”

“I’ve never needed more than one trip to carry groceries to my fourth-floor apartment without an elevator. I got this,” Louis said, lifting the bags to rest one on each hip. “I’ll see you guys back on the bus.”

Admittedly, the milk did make the bags heavier than he expected, but Louis managed to make it back to the bus with limited trouble. He dropped the bags on the table and Doc and Maurice were already headed for the cheese balls. Louis, on the other hand, didn’t have much of an appetite. He was too busy trying to convince himself that he didn’t need to know what Harry and Vinny were talking about for so long, no matter how much he wanted to. His brain was reeling with possibilities. But he had to remind himself that Harry had his own life that Louis wasn’t obligated to know anything about. Really, it was none of his business, but try telling that to his curious mind.

 

At five minutes to showtime, Louis was sat side stage with his legs crossed on an empty rolling case. Niall stood next to him, leaning against it with a bottle of Coke in his hand. Not beer, because Niall was a man of his word. Chaos was a constant backstage, but more so when the star of the show was yet to be found. Louis saw him at dinner when they first arrived, but not since they all retreated back to their rooms to get ready before heading off to the venue. This time, Louis’ neighbours were Doc and Maurice, and he got Niall as an unofficial roommate. It was more that Niall was a tag-along guest and Louis happened to get a room with two beds this time around. Good thing Niall wasn’t too loud and Louis was used to sharing.

With her clipboard tight against her hip, Patty was looking anxious as she talked with Roger, Harry’s manager. Harry wasn’t late yet, but the clock was ticking and no one had heard from him yet. He wasn’t in his hotel room and nowhere to be found backstage. 

“He’d never cancel a show,” Niall said, watching the frantic last-minute preparations passively. There wasn’t much more they could do to help considering they were some of the first people to go searching with no luck.

Louis looked up from his notebook. He was drawing, not writing. Well, he was scribbling shapes in the margins on his page. That’s what he did when he either didn’t know what to write or didn’t know what to do with his hands. “I’m sure he’ll make it,” he said. “He promised Patty.”

“Well, his promises don’t mean shit.”

He narrowed his eyes at Niall. “You sure seem to know a lot about him for someone who claims to have only met him in passing.”

“I know guys like him. I worked with guys like him. Don’t get me wrong, I like the guy, but the scene is getting to him. It always does when you start out as a kid.”

“You were younger than him when you started,” Louis pointed out.

Niall was mid-sip as he let out a laugh. “I’m a drummer, man. I’m the shadow behind the spotlight. I get to make the music and reap the benefits, but no one cares about my personal life as soon as I step off that stage. Harry holds the mic out there, and he’s who everyone’s talking about. It burns you out.”

“But you were still around that lifestyle. What made you immune?”

Niall snorted at that, lifting his foot in the air proudly. “None of us are immune, man. It’s just harder on some than others.”

Like a magnet, all eyes were on Harry as he entered through the stage doors. Louis glanced at his watched and noted that he was almost five minutes late, something Patty would definitely be giving him an earful about after the show, but he was here. Relief flooded over the room as he got his guitar strapped on and hopped up the stair, not sparing anyone much of a glance because he was clearly in a hurry. 

“Told ya’,” Niall patted his back. “Let’s go watch from the crowd. It’s been a while since I’ve done that.”

Hopping down from the case and tucking away his notebook, Louis followed Niall through the series of curtains and security until they reached the floor. They didn’t stand right in the crowd, finding more comfort off to the side near the stands, but they still had a pretty decent view of the stage. Side stage never did quite give the same effect. When you’re in the crowd you’re right in the energy. You aren’t just watching it because you’re actually part of it. Not only can you see the faces of the people in the audience, but also the people on stage, smiling so genuine during the applause because they can’t believe this is really what they do. 

Louis still hadn’t seen that smile on Harry, and he wondered if he would tonight.

The screams sounded louder when Harry took the stage, Maurice, Vinny, and Doc is his wake. He kissed his palm and waved it to the crowd as everyone took their positions. Louis knew the setlist by now, so when the cheers got extra loud during the opening notes of his first hit single, it was expected. 

When Harry sang, he wasn’t just reciting words. He knew where they came from, and his tone never made you forget. He was good with the crowd. No, he was great with the crowd. He knew when to wink, where to toss his pick in between songs, how to make them laugh. He could charm a whole room into falling in love with him as long as you gave him a mic. The skill was rare, and because of it,  Louis was forming his opening paragraph in his mind. He couldn’t even stop himself from reaching for his notebook again.

“What are you doing?” he was asked, but not by Niall.

“I was just going to-” he looked up, but stopped himself when he realized who was now standing next to him.

“No, no, no,” Déjà said, smiling as she pushed his hand back into his bag. “Take notes with your eyes and ears. Trust me, you’re not going to forget them.”

She turned towards to stage, looping her arm through Louis’. Her eyes sparkled when she watched. 

“What are you doing here?” he leaned over to ask her.

“Same as everyone else. I’m here for the show.”

“How did you end up here when I just saw you in LA and New York?”

“How did  _ you _ ?”

He studied her smile. She knew what he meant, but she was stubborn. Louis really thought he almost had her figured out, but it was more likely he was wrong. He briefly considered introducing her to Niall who was still at his other side but decided against it. If he tried, she might not stick around to return the greeting.

“Touché,” he said.

With heads turned back to the stage, they watched as Harry flawlessly transitioned into his second song. This time, he tossed the guitar off to a roadie and twirled the cord of his mic across the stage. The way he moved was like a dance, delicate in a way only he could get away with.

“I have another question, then,” Louis said. His eyes were on the stage but Deja knew she was speaking to him. “Why do you keep showing up at the same places as me?”

“Counter-question: why do you assume you’re the reason I’m here?”

“Common denominator.”

“If that’s your logic, then there’s one more.”

“Can’t you ever just give a clear answer?” It came out a little more hostile than he intended, but Louis couldn’t help his frustration. Even still, Deja looked at him with a kind smile.

“It’s my job to help people,” she said.

“Who do you work for?” he asked, even though the question sounded dumb as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Let’s call him The Man,” she said, biting her lips together. “Hey, I was going to go get a drink from the bar outside. Did you want anything?”

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” he said politely.

“How about your friend?”

“Oh, he’s actually-” Louis turned to look over his shoulder as he pointed his thumb at Niall, but as soon as he looked back she was gone. “ _ Every fucking time _ ,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

“What was that?” Niall asked, leaning closer to shout over the music. 

Louis had to shake off the fact that the previous conversation happened at all before he could reply. “Oh, nothing,” he said. He was lucky though because the song had just come to an end and the cheers drowned him out. It reminded him how easy it was to get lost in a sea of applause.

 

They headed back to the dressing rooms before the show was over to avoid the chaos of the end. After a show like that, there’s always a buzz that takes a little while to wear off. A kind of electricity in the air that doesn’t want to fizzle out. It was like that after every show as everyone either headed straight for the tour bus or crowded into the dressing rooms to wind down before heading back to the hotel. 

Tomorrow they were headed to the airport to fly to Dallas, which meant another early morning. Honestly, Louis wasn’t complaining about having to wake up early. It was nice to not feel obligated to stay up late or otherwise miss out on the antics. 

As the dressing room began to fill up again, Doc and Maurice leading in the second wave of people, Harry was still nowhere to be found. Per his usual inquiry, Louis turned to Niall. He seemed to have all the answers whether they were right or not.

“Ask Maurice,” he said, which was an answer, albeit not a very helpful one.

“I’m not his babysitter, man. Doc might know, he pays more attention.” Assuming Maurice would be helpful in any situation was a fault of Louis’ alone.

“He’s usually hanging around with Vinny,” Doc said, which was finally getting him somewhere. Then again, finding Vinny was looking to be just as hard considering he never made it back with the rest of them either.

“Do you know where Vinny is, then?” Louis asked.

“Ask a roadie. They have eyes everywhere.”

While asking questions got Louis a whole career, it wasn’t getting him very far at the moment. He decided the only way he was going to find Harry was to start the hunt himself. 

Without another word to anyone, he took off out the door and started marching quickly down the hall. Determination really gets your feet moving, and so does a lack of patience: two things Louis was well aware he was infamous for. 

The thing was, Louis didn’t even have much of a reason for his search. He wanted to see Harry. That’s what he was here for, to get to know him. Not partake in sporadic conversations and ten-minute interviews that left him with more questions than he started with. His notebook was filling up but none of it felt useful. The worst part was, that wasn’t even what was starting to upset him. The Harry he met at Woodstock was someone he thought could see himself growing close to, and the one he’d been following the last few days was a total stranger, like the one he met outside a Port-a-Sans who would barely give him the time of day. He wanted to find the other Harry before he got lost again.

Or maybe find Vinny, because that’s who we almost ran directly into while far too deep in thought.

“You alright, man?” he asked, steadying Louis by his arm so he didn’t fall over.

“Yeah, sorry, I was- Have you seen Harry around?”

“No, but I was looking for him too. Are the guys back in his dressing room?”

“Last I saw.”

“Cool, man. If you see Harry, send him back, will ya?”

“Sure,” Louis said, but didn’t mean it one bit as Vinny waved him off and continued through another set of doors.

With a deep breath, Louis stopped and turned to lean against the concrete wall. He closed his eyes and let the air out of his lungs with puffed cheeks. He didn’t know what he was doing, or why he was even here. This wasn’t a place he belonged. On tour with someone who was selling out shows and on the verge of breaking album records for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. He didn’t need this story, especially not after the Woodstock cover. This story might not even happen. So he wasn’t doing it for himself. Did that mean he was doing it for the guy he’d known for two weeks? The one who had been avoiding him since this tour started? Louis already decided he’d be willing to live in secrecy if it meant being with him, but he couldn’t tell you one personal thing about Harry he hadn’t read in a magazine’s biography.

Turning his head to his side, his face was greeted by Patty’s insincere smile. Her palm was rested flat on the wall next to him, her clipboard tucked under her other arm.

“I’ve been watching you around here, you know,” she said.

“You have?”

She nodded. “And you’ve been watching everyone else. With your nose in that book of yours, you think you turn invisible. Like you’re watching TV only you get to walk around the set while they film. But these kids aren’t actors, and when you’re here, you’re one of them.”

Louis didn’t know what to say. She was eyeing him like a principal right before she sentenced you to a week of detention for smoking in the bathrooms. He had no reason to be in trouble, but the cops don’t come knocking unless they’re looking for suspects or witnesses, and he could’ve easily been at the scene of the crime.

“Were you with Harry today?” she asked.

“Not since the bus this afternoon,” he told her. He felt like if he got any facts wrong she’d be sending him back on a bus, only this one would be taking him home.

“Was he actin’ a little funny?”

Louis didn’t know how to answer. Harry’s natural demeanor was always a little strange, but that’s just who he was. “I don’t think so,” he said

“There’s a lot of reasons that boy has been late in the past. Nine out of ten of the times it’s not a good enough excuse in my books.” She shook her head slowly, almost like she was disappointed.

“What was a good enough excuse?” Louis wondered.

Patty shrugged with a frown. “Ate some bad shrimp?” she offered. “Whether that was the truth or not, well, I’ll never know. I always have my suspicions.”

“What are the other nine?”

She stopped, looked up to his eyes, and patted him once on the shoulder. Her look was one of pity. “Harry’s on his way back to the hotel. His room is number 340. Why don’t you go check on him? I have a feeling there are few other people he’d want to see.”

A crease formed between his eyebrows. Louis didn’t understand. Tonight was easily his best performance so far. He was filled with energy and hit every note. So why would he want to escape to be alone instead of celebrating with everyone else? 

“Is he okay?”

“Just go see him,” Patty insisted. When she walked away, the spot on Louis’ shoulder where her arm was rested was still warm.

Louis hitched a ride in a chauffeured car with a few others who were headed the same way. He recognized one girl from the bus but didn’t know the others. Not that it mattered to him. He just wanted to get back there and find Harry. Now he really was looking for answers, but this time he wasn’t even sure what the question was. As he stood waiting for the elevator, he felt like he was walking around with a giant question mark floating above him. Honestly, that was how he felt all week.

On the third floor, Louis made a sharp left, reading the number on each door as he passed. Room 340 was right at the end of the hall. Louis was sharing room 302 with Niall on the other end. He wondered if rooms were randomly assigned to the rest of the crew, or if anyone had a hand in the placement.

He knocked quickly four times. For a few seconds he waited, but impatience was growing so he knocked two more. With his ear close to the door, he tried to listen for any movement inside, but there was nothing. So without thinking, he reached a hand down and turned the knob. The door opened with a click, and he was in. Of all people, he thought Harry would hardly ever enter a room without locking the door behind him, but he didn’t even lock his own hotel room.

Louis realized right away the reason the door went unanswered. Running water could be heard from the occupied bathroom, so putting two and two together was pretty simple. He didn’t want to intrude while Harry - he assumed it was Harry - was taking a shower, but his surroundings pulled Louis in.

He never would understand how Harry could seem to spread his life across a room in a matter of hours after arrival. Not even one night was spent here and the bed was already unmade, his clothes were spilling out of the bag, and it looked like he had some company earlier because the table held a collection of dealt cards and empty cups. Louis took a lap, noting the brown ankle boots discarded next to the bed that he remembered from the weekend they met. After those mud fights and all the walking, he was surprised they didn’t end up in a dumpster. They were beyond worn, but they had been recently cleaned. Harry must’ve had a thing for keepsakes, Louis thought. Plus, they were quite nice boots.

Louis wondered what Harry would think of his own room. Maybe not his hotel room so much since it barely looked inhabited, but his room back home. The records spread across the floor that were too disorganized to even start putting away without committing a day to it. How many papers he had stacked on his desk and how full his wastebasket always was. If a paragraph wasn’t going his way, the whole page was yanked out of his typewriter. He didn’t have time to correct his mistakes. The way his brain worked was fast enough that he just had to keep going. If he was writing something that was turning out like shit then he’d start all over again. That’s what gave him the long hours, but it also gave him the possibility of two cover stories in a row. Louis wasn’t a good writer by accident. He was a good writer because, besides music, it was the only thing he really loved. And dammit, was he passionate about what he loved.

Spotting a can of Pringles on the table across the room, Louis realized he’d barely eaten since the snacks back on the bus. His stomach must’ve been what zeroed in on them because as soon as the thought registered, it let out a growl. He stepped forward to reach for it, getting an unexpected clearer look at the table.

It wasn’t just cards and empty cups, bottles, and half-eaten snacks. There were crumbs as well, sure, but that wasn’t what left Louis wide-eyed. The water shut off, but he barely even noticed the quiet. 

Louis wouldn’t call himself straight-edged by any means, but weed was pretty much where he drew the line when it came to drugs. Acid was a rare thing, and even that he wasn’t a fan of. Nothing else he’d ever tried. But seeing a rolled up twenty next to a line of white powder, well, you don’t have to be any sort of expert in the D.A. to know what happened there.

It wasn’t until the bathroom door actually opened and Harry came strolling out in a towel that Louis even clued in to look up. Harry stopped in his tracks, staring at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Louis backed away from the table, his hands raised in front of him. “Sorry, I-” 

“Maurice invited everyone bar hopping. I assumed you’d be going with them,” Harry said, crossing the room to his pile of clothes that must’ve had a bag hiding under it.

“Oh, I didn’t know they were going,” Louis said slowly, eyes falling back to the table. He tried to avert his stare, but his mind was still racing. The cliche was sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll and he knew Harry partook in it all, but everything he was taught by parents and teachers growing up told him that what he was seeing was very bad and it was a feeling he couldn’t shake.

“So you just came to say hey?” Harry had a shirt in his hand and was searching for some pants to go with it. His back was turned to Louis, and once he found some he shamelessly dropped his towel and stepped into them. Louis turned halfway around and he was staring at the table again.

“Yes,” he said pointedly, waiting until Harry was fully clothed again.

“Well,” Harry’s voice was getting closer until they were facing each other again, “Hey,” he grinned.

Louis could tell almost immediately. Harry’s eyes were dilated like they had been last night. He was doing that twitching thing where he sniffed for no reason and pinched his nose. He couldn’t keep his gaze focused on just one thing, even when he was standing this close to Louis. What was on the table wasn’t from some guests earlier, though it could be that too. It was from right before he arrived.

“Are you high?!” Louis asked rather bluntly. A crease formed between Harry’s eyebrows as he took a step back. The way the words came out, he would’ve known Louis wasn’t just wondering if he was stoned. 

Louis nodded towards the leftovers at the table and Harry turned to see for himself as if he didn’t even know it was there. Patty’s concern was all making sense now. The guilty look on his face gave it all away. He was stumbling to get any words out at all.

So Harry laughed.

“I’m not- This isn’t-” he tried to explain, but Louis wasn’t amused.

“So this is how you spend your free time? Why you’re late for shows and always running off with no explanation? So you can do this shit to numb your brain?”

“It’s not that big of a deal!” He was still smirking and it was only making Louis angrier.

“Then what would you consider a big deal? If I found you passed out next to the fucking toilet?”

Harry shook his head, taken aback by Louis’ words. He didn’t seem to understand why he was so upset, but at the moment he was angry. For the last couple days Louis was being ignored by the one reason he was here, and this felt like why.

“You don’t get this. You don’t know what it’s like to-”

“Oh, then please explain to me how life is so difficult for a twenty-year-old kid who was practically an overnight success because of one stroke of luck. No need to work now that you’re making bank, right? Just snort away all the royalty money!”

Harry’s face was getting red and Louis realized he might’ve gotten himself into an argument he wasn’t ready for. This is why he didn’t do emotions. Words, he was good with. Conflict was never something he learned to deal with in the right way.

“I work hard for my career!” he yelled, and Louis didn’t even realize that was something he was capable of. Harry began gesturing wide as he spoke and for a moment he was almost scared. “It’s fucking stressful what I do. And because of that, I wonder every goddamn day if this is something I’m cut out for because it’s not just about the music. If money is involved, it’s never just about the music. So yeah, I need to get high sometimes so I don’t decide to walk off that stage one day and never come back.”

“If that’s the case, why are you even here?” Louis demanded.

“Because, I-” he stopped, deflating as he sat on the bed behind him. His voice cracked before he could continue. “As much as I hate it all, I love it too. Tours will beat my ass with sleeping schedules and wake-up times for rehearsals, radio interviews, record signings, and then I’ll get on stage and that jolt of ecstasy keeps me coming back. So what the hell else am I supposed to do? I’m a musician and a lot of the time it feels like that’s it. The drugs, well, they remind me that I’m human too.”

Louis joined him to sit, still keeping his distance. “I get that. The stress, I mean. In college, I had to quit drinking because I used to do it whenever I got overwhelmed, even if I was by myself slaving over textbooks. I know that’s not the same, but when you talk about being human, I know what you mean. Everyone is stressed, but somehow taking away the stressful thing is when you start to feel like everyone else.”

For a while, neither of them said anything. They didn’t even look at each other. Eventually, Harry told him, “I’m not an addict. It’s a casual habit. I don’t do it when I’m not on tour.”

“Okay,” Louis nodded. He didn’t know how much he believed him, but whether he did or not didn’t matter much anyway.

“I know I can’t make you, but please don’t write about this. I’ll get torn apart in every other publication. My image may not be clean cut, but I don’t want to be made out as some kind of hophead.”

“I won’t write about it,” Louis promised, and he meant it too. He wasn’t in the business of ruining careers, and that was something he hoped was very clear.

“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely. “And I don’t do it every day. It’s just when I-”

“You don’t have to keep explaining yourself to me.”

“Sorry.”

Louis looked him up and down. Not in a pitiful way, but with a feeling of empathy. He didn’t know what it was like to be him, but he knew what it was like to not know who you were or what you wanted to be. And on a human level, not just as a career. That was more important.

“I wish you could find happiness all the time. Without any of that shit, I mean. I really care about you, you know,” Louis told him, and he watched his ears prick up as he slowly looked up at him. For reassurance, Louis reached forward and wrapped his hand over the one Harry had rested on the bed next to him. “This isn’t all business. When this week is over, I hope I’ll get to show you that more.”

Before he could say another word, Harry brought his free hand to Louis’ cheek and pulled him closer until their lips met in an urgent kiss. Louis closed his eyes and kissed him back because even though he knew he shouldn’t, he really wanted to. When he couldn’t write, his mind would be wandering back to that night at the pond or the afternoon sneaking around the airport. He’d wake up and remember that morning with the flash of the camera and how comforting Harry’s chest was as a pillow. Before falling asleep, he thought about the warm feeling of Harry’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close until he drifted into the night. That was his ecstasy, but work was his cocaine.

And because of that, he couldn’t let tonight continue on this path. The kiss had lasted far too long already, even though he had barely even tasted the mint from Harry’s freshly brushed teeth. He pulled away carefully, his hand falling from the back of Harry’s neck and down his arm. His eyes wouldn’t reveal his thoughts, but Louis didn’t want to know them. 

“Goodnight, Harry,” Louis whispered as he slowly stood up, letting go of his hand. He knew Harry was watching him as he walked quickly towards the door, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around.


	5. Day 4 - Dallas

Louis had trouble sleeping that night, which was odd because his exhaustion usually tried to knock him out before he could even make the choice to go to bed. Niall got in around two in the morning, but when he turned the light on Louis barely even flinched in his bed. He only pretended to sleep, though. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to anyone, especially Niall. He didn’t want to hear another one of his interpretations of who Harry _really_ was. As Louis talked to more and more people, he was starting to realize not everyone had the same story.

To Niall, Harry was a just an old pal. Like a college friend or drinking buddy who you’d go out with on nights when life was getting too boring. You’d walk the streets until sunrise and talk about what felt like the most important things in the universe, and the next day you wouldn’t even remember. Those were good friends to have, but they never would last.

To Patty, Harry was like a son. He _was_ young enough to be her son, and to not quite be able to navigate the world on his own yet. He tried though, and maybe that’s what made him so damn miserable. Harry never talked much about his parents, especially not to the press. All Louis knew was that he left home at seventeen, no telling why. But now he had Patty, and she loved him as a mother should. She kept his life together and when he fucked up, well, she knew how to teach him a lesson. If he didn’t like that about her he would’ve fired her months ago. He needed her. Frankly, he’d be lost without her.

To the band, Harry was the boss. It was more than just a nickname. They were friends, sure, but Harry got the last word. And because they wanted to be here, they let him. Harry never took advantage of that, though. He wanted them to be on equal ground. But he had something they all wanted, so he was their ticket in. That was the case for Doc and Maurice, at least. Vinny, that was someone who Louis couldn’t quite figure out. The way Harry talked about him, he knew their friendship meant more to him than the others. They knew each other longer, so it made sense. Maybe they shared more than just music and a dream.

And then there was Louis.

To Louis, Harry was an anomaly in his life. He was responsible for introducing him to worlds he would’ve otherwise never known. He had no idea what to make of them, but if this was the world Harry was in, he never wanted to leave. What he meant to Louis was something Louis couldn’t articulate because it was a feeling he had never before experienced. It wasn’t love because he knew his heart well enough to know it wouldn’t act that irrationally without his brain’s permission. But maybe it was something close to it. An infatuation that just wanted to keep growing and blooming into.... Something.

He couldn’t get too ahead of himself. He had to understand that getting involved with Harry was something he couldn’t even begin to prepare for. This life was a kind of chaos that felt impossible to get used to. Not to mention the only states he had even seen Harry in were varying degrees of a steaming hot mess. And yet still, that kiss gave him another roll of film to project onto the back of his eyelids until his heart rate slowed enough to let him sleep.

 

The next morning, they were headed to the airport to fly to Dallas. Louis had never been to Texas before and heard only rumours of the deep south. Niall, apparent encyclopedia of the rocker lifestyle, insisted the state was where people really knew how to party, and since Louis had never been and didn’t have much to compare to, he had to believe him. Technically, Niall was never even invited on this leg of the tour, but no one was stopping him from getting on that private plane.

Oh yeah, they were flying there on a fucking _private plane_.

That whole ‘different worlds’ thing definitely applied to this.

Flying in a private plane wasn’t even something Louis had considered to be part of any point in his life. Even with the knowledge that he very well could be interviewing some of the world’s biggest musicians, the luxuries that came with it completely eluded him. Not that he expected to be sitting across from a Beatle anytime soon, but he preferred to keep his ambitions high.

There was no waiting in airport lineups to board a private jet, as it turned out. In fact, there wasn’t a need for going inside the airport at all. The van that picked them all up from the hotel didn’t stop to let them out until it reached the tarmac. Louis rode right with the band, and he was even starting to feel like he was one of them. Maybe it was the comradery of it all, or maybe it was how many hours he had to stay in that enclosed space of the tour bus with them. Two nights of having to share a hotel room with Niall and he learned much more about him than he would’ve liked. Some personal care habits never need to be shared.

Maurice was first in line up the stairs into the plane, the girl he had been hanging out with tucked under his arm. Eventually, Louis found out her name was Jasmine, but he still wasn’t totally sure she was the same girl as before. Louis ended up behind him, his bag thrown over his shoulder and his sunglasses blocking the bright morning rays. Any time before noon was always too early for almost everyone on the tour considering their jobs didn’t end until after midnight each day.

The plane only had eight seats: two sets of chairs facing each other with a table between them on each side. That was why only a few of them got to travel off the ground to the next venue. Along with the band was also Niall whose seat would’ve otherwise gone to Patty but she preferred traveling with the crew to make sure everything was in order, as well as Roger, Harry’s cowboy-hat-wearing manager who Louis hadn’t spoken to since their simple greetings upon arrival. He was a man of few words even though his involvement in Harry’s life was obviously quite large. They had already sort-of met once when Harry’s argument with him lead to their weekend together. Louis could only assume that was part of the reason Roger made it pretty obvious he wasn’t thrilled with the presence of a music journalist whose job was to unveil all these new parts of Harry’s life, and who was quite an obvious distraction to Harry in general. Louis chose to not take any of it to heart.

Maurice collapsed into an empty seat, guiding Jasmine to the one across from him. Louis sat in the seat on the opposite corner of the plane. Because it was closest, not because he wanted to be as far from Maurice as possible, but that may have been a factor. He watched as Niall took the seat across from Doc since they were mid-conversation when they arrived. There were three seats available when Harry ducked his head through the doorway, and he took the one across from Louis without even glancing at the others. More than anything, Louis was glad to be saved from spending the entire flight listening to Doc talk endlessly and pretend it was a two-way conversation.

“Hey,” Harry said, dropping his bag on the floor next to him and unwrapping both scarves from around his neck. He never could just wear one. These weren’t even the kind to keep you warm. Just thin fabric and bright colours to wear as an accessory.

Louis was quite busy inspecting the soft fabric of the chairs and the cupholders next to the table between them, even though his mind was more focused on the boy across from him.

“Hey,” Louis replied, trying not to think too hard about the night before as soon as eye contact was made. He’d done a pretty good job of avoidance on the drive down since he sat at the very back of the van. Not that he was actively avoiding Harry - that would sort of defeat the purpose in him being here - he just had to get himself back into the proper mindset. One that was much more professional and remembered his goal. But Harry’s face always had that cocky smile that told you he knew something you didn’t. A glance alone in the right direction was charming enough that he didn’t even need to open his mouth.

But Louis was a professional, goddammit. No matter how weak that smile could make him.

“You have more questions, right?” Harry wondered. He was taking his jacket off now, pulling the sleeves by his wrists. Arizona wasn’t really a jacket-wearing state, especially in September, but Harry’s clothing choices seemed to be more fashion oriented rather than practical. The shirt he wore underneath was loose and white, tucked into the pair of trousers that fit quite snug. He left the top couple of buttons on the shirt undone. Paired with those scarves, you could almost pick him out of a crowd if it wasn’t for the hair.

“I have more than you can likely answer,” Louis told him. Reaching for his backpack, he hoped he was right about what that question was initiating. If Harry was willing to be professional, he could _definitely_ be professional.

“Alright,” he settled into his seat and folded his hands together on the table. “Hit me.”

Louis pulled out his notebook and flipped through it until he found one of the many scribble-filled pages with questions and laid it flat in front of him. It wasn’t often that Louis was unprepared, but he had to scan the lines to find something good enough to get the conversation going. He could feel Harry watching him, an eyebrow quirked upwards as he waited. That started Louis’ clammy hands from acting up, but eventually, he found his rhythm.

“Can we talk about a few of your songs?”

Harry adjusted his posture again, narrowing his eyes as he smirked mysteriously. It almost felt mocking, but Harry was never one to insult anyone. That smile could also mean he was choosing to hide his thoughts. “Which songs exactly?”

“Well, we didn’t dive very deep into “Heartbreaker” yesterday.”

“I wrote that song at three in the morning when I decided that love doesn’t exist and it would be much simpler to leave a trail of cracked hearts than to fully break a few.”

“Sounds like there’s a bigger story there,” Louis prodded.

“Not really. I never acted on it. I just felt that way for about an hour, got the song out, then went to bed. By morning I decided that plan isn’t meant for me, but the song was still good so I went with it. Not every song has a good story.”

“What about “Better Man”? The lyrics are slightly confusing. It seems like you’re telling the story of a man who cheats on his wife, so the woman goes out looking for someone new. The so-called ‘better man’,” Louis said, reading almost directly from his page.

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

“But the chorus ends with “There’s no better man than a woman,” which doesn’t seem to line up without switching perspectives.”

He shrugged. “I think it does. How much have you really thought about it?”

Louis had definitely considered other reasonings, but none that he thought would actually be true. And definitely none that he could add to his piece.

“Why don’t we move on to-”

“Wait,” Harry looked quite amused now, “I want to hear your “Better Man” theory.”

“That’s not useful to the interview.”

“Forget about the interview. Just tell me.”

Louis was pretending to take notes but really he was colouring in the shapes he had drawn in his margins. They were getting off topic and Harry already talked about how little he thought his own meaning behind lyrics really mattered. It was all about how the audience interpreted it blah blah blah. He needed something a little juicy, and lyrics were a safe bet because they were something he already chose to share. Then again, to Harry, talking his way around an answer was an art form.

But Louis, of course, had been taking a few notes and could change a subject just as easily. “When you talk about meaning in a song you generally leave that up to the audience. Are there any songs or lyrics not written by you that you have maybe found a deeper meaning in?”

Louis fiddled with his pencil as he asked the question, realizing only when the words started to come out that it was exactly the kind of depth Harry was not comfortable with. However, the question he asked Louis was basically the same in fewer words.

“I’d like to think I find deep meaning in many songs.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Harry barely skipped a beat. “If songs mean different things to everyone then I’m not going to ruin it for anyone. Maybe I listen to “God Only Knows” and see it as a desperate plea from a man that his wife not leave him, but to someone else it just makes them smile and think about their happy ten years of marriage. There’s no right answer, but opinions can make you argue all day. Isn’t the fact that it means something to anyone at all enough in itself?”

What a brilliant non-answer, Louis thought. The smug way Harry looked when he said it was starting to rattle his nerves. He wondered if it was on purpose or if he didn’t even realize how off track he could get. The former was more likely.

“Let’s talk about your family,” Louis said rather abruptly. He watched as a bit of the colour drained from Harry’s face, but that didn’t stop him in the slightest. The plane was beginning to take off now, so there really was nowhere for him to run to. Talking would become a bit more of a struggle though. The engine was quite loud.

Harry cleared his throat and turned his head, trying to distract himself by watching the tarmac pass them through the window. “Wouldn’t want to bore your readers,” he said.

From his bag, Louis pulled out his pack of cigarettes and pulled the ashtray on the table closer. He lit the tip carefully, then handed both the lighter and the pack to Doc who was asking to bum one across the aisle. Whatever was out that window must’ve been absolutely fascinating because Harry didn’t take his eyes off it.

“You grew up in New York, right?” Louis asked, casually blowing out a small cloud of smoke as he leaned back in his chair. He could feel the power of the conversation shifting in his favour. Typically what you want as the interviewer, because if he had control then he could manipulate it as he liked.

“Brooklyn. I moved to Manhattan when I was seventeen because I loved the West Village and decided to stay once I signed on for my record deal.”

“Why did you move at seventeen?”

“I felt ready.”

“To leave school as well?”

Harry actually laughed at that. “Yeah, that probably wasn’t one of my more brilliant schemes. I kind of screwed the pooch if this whole music thing doesn’t work out. Not a lot of good-paying jobs looking for a high school dropout with no experience.”

“What did your parents think of that decision?”

He wasn’t even touching Harry, but Louis could feel the tension building up inside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Vinny watching their whole exchange. He didn’t bother making eye contact because he wanted to see how long the stare would last, but he showed no sign of pulling his attention away.

“They didn’t have much of a say.”

“But you were a minor. They could force you to stay if they wanted.”

“Trust me, no one was forcing me to stay.”

So he ran away, is what Louis was hearing. Only no one was chasing after him, especially not his family. That rarely means the related parties were on good terms. Could be the classic disapproval story, but Louis had a feeling there was a little more to it. He decided to step down before Harry’s shield got too strong to break through again.

“Did you have any siblings growing up?”

“No,” Harry stated in staccato.

Shit. There was no way Harry was letting anything out now. If only Louis could learn to control that attitude of his. It didn’t have a great relationship with his mouth. At least he still had another trick up his sleeve.

“Hey, um,” Louis began, hesitantly ashing his cigarette and turning his body slightly outwards, arm resting along the back of the seat. “What do you say we open the questions up to the band as well? I’d love to get a bit of a group conversation going and now seems like a good time.”

That really got everyone else’s attention. Suddenly hair was being fixed and shirts were getting smoothed out even though no one was about to be on camera for any of this. They were just talking. And maybe their answers would be read by thousands of people. That was still a big maybe.

“Anything you want to know, man. We have all the answers,” Maurice said quite smugly. Harry turned to look at him and while Louis couldn’t see his face, he knew it was a glare he was sending him.

“Are we sure that’s a good idea?” Roger asked, gaining the attention of everyone else. Louis felt a little like he was getting in trouble for even making the suggestion, but Doc saved him right away.

“‘Course it is. It’s a cover story, man,” he said. Roger sighed his disapproval but didn’t voice it again after that. Louis was actually surprised with how little he was being censored when it came to the interview questions, but Harry also did a pretty good job of censoring himself.

“So you all have been working with Harry since the beginning, correct?” Louis looked around the small room at each of their faces. The plane was just beginning to accent and a couple of them were getting distracted by the ground growing farther and farther away, but his questions still got plenty of answers.

“I’ve been here since the very beginning,” Vinny corrected. “But we’ve all been here a while. We’re close as a band, I think. We worked in the studio as well on the first album, so it’s really cool that Harry keeps us so involved, I think.”

Cracking his knuckles, Harry kept looking mindlessly at his hands instead of at anyone in particular. Louis was trying very subtly to keep an eye on him. Every nuance and tiny movement gave away almost as much as his actual words.

“But Harry is quite clearly marketed as a solo act. Have you ever considered making the band more official, sort of like the Jimi Hendrix Experience? You’d still have your obvious frontman, but the band would get fame in their own right as well.”

Almost immediately after Louis asked the question he regretted it because the tension that just poured into the room was on the brink of overwhelming. He must’ve struck a sour chord because no one seemed to be at ease in the slightest anymore. With that said, it didn’t stop him from receiving an answer.

Vinny was up first. “I mean, we do get credit on songs we’ve co-written and-”

“We’ve talked about it, but no one’s ever given us a straight answer,” Maurice stated quite pointedly while looking in the direction of Harry and Roger.

“Now isn’t the time to discuss business,” Roger told him, but it sounded more like a warning than anything.

“Tell me, then, when can I book a meeting? Because I’ve been trying to for almost two years.”

“Just drop it, man,” Doc hissed. Louis was starting to understand now how big the mistake was that he’d made. Squishing his cigarette into the ashtray, he began looking for a new question in the hopes to save this conversation before it completely derailed.

“Why don’t we move on?” Louis cut in.

“We can have a meeting right now,” Harry said, a surprising calm in his voice. He turned in his seat to look at Maurice, hands folded almost condescendingly over his lap. “How do you propose we move forward?”

Maurice leaned in closer, a pleased smirk on his face. “An ‘and the…’”

“A what?” Harry said, clearly confused.

“Harry Styles and the Pink Angels. Or maybe you could drop the last name,” he suggested.

“ _Pink Angels_? Where’d you come up with that?” Harry was trying not to laugh. It was hard to tell whether it was because he wasn’t a fan of the name or this amount of confrontation was just making him uncomfortable. It was kind of a ridiculous name.

“Vinny thought of it,” Doc said, not too keen on being thrown under the bus.

Vinny stuttered to find words now that everyone’s eyes were on him. Harry’s included, although he probably knew without even looking. His stare was an icy one.

“We were just bouncing names around. There’s nothing wrong with our current arrangement. Our names are under the tracklist and we still get royalty money.”

“Bull-shit!” Maurice exclaimed, emphasizing each syllable.

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m not starving for fame like you are!” Vinny shot back. Between the two of them, no one would be pulling their punches. “As if being the bassist in someone’s fucking ensemble is going to get you that notoriety you so desperately crave.”

“Don’t talk to me about notoriety, man. We all know the real reason you still stick around.”

“It’s my job, asshole. I’m not sure how much longer you’ll be saying the same.”

“Are you sure that’s all you’re getting paid for?”

“Fuck you, man.”

Louis looked at Harry, waiting for him to step in to say something. But he was just sitting there, staring at his hands and likely praying that everyone would get over this soon. The problem was that Harry had found himself as the core antagonist of this argument, and any side he took would make this infinitely worse. Because he wasn’t a complete idiot, Louis didn’t dare say a word. The opposite could be noted for Doc.

“Guys, maybe now isn’t the time for this. We’re kind of on record,” Doc nodded towards Louis. He wanted nothing more than to be completely invisible at that moment.

Maurice let out a laugh. “He’s not going to add any of this. He’s too busy worshiping the ground Harry walks on to publish anything that would make him look bad.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry snapped, turning fully in his seat. Maurice almost looked stunned to see the sudden rush of anger on his face. They were barely even above the clouds now. Was it too late to turn this plane around?

Looking slightly exasperated, Maurice let out a sigh in frustration, but he wasn’t letting go of this topic just yet. “Nothing, man. Just another one of those things we don’t mention, right?”

Louis felt like throwing up. There was something about the stress of the situation mixed with the quick ascent of the plane. He wasn’t a stranger to arguments, but that was when he was the one in them - and winning them. Once the argument was about him and he knew he had virtually no control over it, he didn’t know what to do. So his stomach rebelled, and he fought back. Not with words, though. It was an internal battle both to keep his breakfast down and stop his mouth from saying something that would make this situation so much worse.

“I suggest this subject be changed. Now,” Roger said pointedly in his low, intimidating voice. He was quite a large man too, his arms practically bulging from his striped sleeves and his head nearly bald under that cowboy hat. If need be, he could likely be Harry’s security as well. But he was quiet until there was business that needed to be discussed, and that only added to his ominous aura.

Louis tried to get a look at the non-band members on board to gauge the average level of discomfort. Jasmine had her nose buried in a book, but it was unlikely that she was paying more attention to it than her surroundings. Niall was taking a similar approach with an in-flight magazine, but his changing facial expressions gave it all away. Louis knew his eyes must’ve looked like they were watching a tennis match because he wasn’t even trying to pretend he wasn’t completely invested. He did start it, after all. If only if his lips came with a zipper right from birth.

“Alright,” Maurice adjusted his posture and smiled in a condescending way. “Next album, if you want to work with us, we want full credit. We want an ‘and the’.”

“Woah,” Doc put a steady hand up. “You don’t speak for Vinny and me.”

“Yeah, man. There’s no ultimatum here,” Vinny added, keeping his tone firm.

“Not to mention that would never fly with the record company,” Roger made clear. “Harry is signed as a solo artist and he’s bringing in unprecedented numbers. If the formula is working, no one is going to try to change it.”

“But you’re free to kickstart your own solo career whenever you want,” Harry continued, his own smile making for a nice pair of mockery with Maurice’s. “Just make sure you hand in your two weeks notice so we have time to find a replacement.”

It was Maurice’s turn for to glare. Even Louis knew that Harry was bluffing. They were at each other’s throats now, but if Maurice said he was leaving tomorrow, he would still be begged to stay. That’s what happened when you worked together for so long. Finding a new bassist that fit the exact shape of the mould he would be leaving behind was just too difficult. They would never get back this exact flow they had now. Which is also why Maurice had no problem following through with his retort.

“At least I’d finally get a break from your monstrous ego.”

“Ego?!” Louis burst without thinking. He really didn’t want that to be his only contribution to the discussion, especially since he was supposed to be the unbiased third party, but who was he kidding? That ship sailed long ago. An ego was the last thing Louis would ever accuse Harry of having too much of. He loved music more than anything and knew not everything he made was destined for a gold record. Every night he went on stage to make fans happy almost more than for himself. Nothing about him gave off that he thought he was any better than anyone else. If anything, special treatment of any kind almost made him uncomfortable. Of course every artist had an ego, but it took a certain breed to never get too overblown. Louis couldn’t say for sure who Harry may eventually turn into, but right now he was anything but egotistical.

“Yeah, his fucking ego. Have we met the same Harry Styles? The one who makes us wait to go on stage while he’s doing lines in his dressing room. The one who changes the setlist at the last second every night because he decides he’s not feeling a song. Who skips recording sessions, but still gets writing credit even if he just laid down the vocals. “White Lillies” is a song Vinny and I co-wrote. Ourselves. Do I even need to mention the Enemy? He brings in a fucking music journalist to come on tour and write whatever he wants for a cover story, twisting our words however he likes. I don’t remember getting a heads-up phone call before the San Francisco show.”

Maurice was getting furious, and he was getting mean. The words he was saying could have been true, but he was the one twisting them to make Harry sound like a villain. And he had the audacity to still call Louis the enemy as if he wasn’t in constant construction of his own slander piece. Louis just wanted Harry to say something to stick up for himself. Anything to tear Maurice off his high horse. Flat out firing the son-of-a-bitch would be ideal, but that was something he wasn’t even sure Harry was capable of.

“You gave “White Lilies” to me,” Harry said quietly. He held his eye contact, strong as ever. His gaze was always intense but anger added a layer of fright. “I changed some of the lyrics when you did. When we recorded, I tweaked your arrangement. That’s why I had writing credit. Don’t accuse me of stealing songs.”

“No one thinks you stole it,” Vinny tried to add in reassurance. “We all worked on it. Maurice just doesn’t know how to not be an asshole.”

“Are you sure you want to involve yourself any further, Vinny? You might want to watch yourself with the Enemy here,” Maurice warned.

Harry looked ready to clock him square in the jaw, and if he was anyone else he would have. There was more turbulence and Louis felt his stomach quiver again.

“Get a fucking grip on your attitude and leave Louis out of this!” Harry demanded, and now Louis was the one slightly afraid of the outcome. This level of anger wasn’t just rare to Harry. He wasn’t sure he’d seen anyone besides his own parents this mad, and that was because he likely did something that deserved the scolding. He double checked his recorder to make sure it was off, then tossed it in his bag so it was out of sight.

“Sorry,” Maurice said, but the tone was sarcastic. “Did I hit a sensitive spot?”

“We’re done with this discussion,” Roger stated defiantly, looking ready to step in if need be. The power he held made his words enough, but he looked each of them in the eye to make sure they knew he wasn’t messing around. There was no resolution in sight. This discussion was over.

Faces were getting red hot and blood was boiling. Harry wasn’t one to snap, but he was teetering so close to the edge that his short bursts of anger were inevitable. Louis wished he could say more because hearing those words about Harry sent his insides into a rage of their own. He had never gotten in a fight before, or so much as hit anyone, but Louis would be pleased to leave Maurice with a shiner on his left eye.

The plane went silent for just a moment after that, only the hum of the engine and the thousand-pound tension in the air could be sensed. And that’s when Louis jumped out of his seat and raced for the tiny bathroom around the corner. He couldn’t be more relieved to have chosen the seat at the back of the plane when he got on. With the mixture of stress throbbing the back of his head and the motion swirling his insides too much, Louis hurled his insides into the toilet. He did it until he could feel sweat beading on his forehead and his dehydrated body begging for water. Once he felt even slightly at ease, he collapsed onto his side to try and take deep breaths, calming whatever was going on inside his body. Anything to get rid of the headache and nausea.

Louis could still feel the tension from here, the isolation of the bathroom. But he was away from it all and that made him at least feel slightly better. And it gave him a second to process the fight that he inadvertently created out there. It was a mess he was not prepared to clean up, nor did he think he had the ability to. At least he had this comforting cold floor against his cheek. Maybe he could take a nap right there. Anything to not have to face any of them again for a little while.

 

The silence followed them all the way to Dallas. Barely a peep was spoken from anyone, especially not Harry or Maurice. Doc came to check on Louis about twenty minutes after his escape to the bathroom to make sure he was okay. When Louis was finally feeling up to it, he asked Doc if they could switch seats. There was nothing he could think to say to Harry right now, and having to sit across from him for the next two hours didn’t sound like a great time. Niall had decided to take a nap for the duration of the flight, so he truly was the best seat partner. Louis didn’t even try to write to pass the time. He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come either.

At one point, when he was pretending to sleep, he heard Harry quietly ask Doc if everything was alright with him. Doc said yes. Louis would’ve said yes as well since that was the answer he gave him through the door, but he was feeling the ‘no’ way more. When they landed at the airport, he genuinely considered finding a flight back home right then, but he knew that if he did, that would be the end of all of this. No satisfying resolution, no going back. Louis didn’t give up that easily.

So instead of going back home, he did the next best thing he could think of. He sat in the car on the way to the hotel, asked for his room key as quickly as he could, and locked himself away for the day. Niall was still his unofficial roommate, but he had plans to actually enjoy his day. Louis, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. He was supposed to observe soundcheck and conduct an interview throughout, but he couldn’t bring himself to even try. Call him dramatic, but frustration was eating away at him and his body still hadn’t fully recovered from his sickness this morning. This felt like more than a job going wrong. It felt like every good thing in his life was on its way straight to hell. And he hated that one person was the cause for all of it. He still wanted to go home, but instead, he took a nap.

That night, Louis did go to the show, but he didn’t stay long. His headache had become a migraine and everything about the environment at the venue felt like it was repelling his existence, not just the volume of the music. Everyone was off their game, even the people who weren’t present on the plane this morning. Harry wasn’t late to the performance, but he definitely didn’t show up sober. Maurice would barely look at him when they took the stage, even when Doc did his best to make the atmosphere a little more lighthearted. The only time they did speak was when the sound from Maurice’s bass was cut halfway through “Better Man” and he accused Harry of sabotage before the encore - as if Harry would sabotage his own show. Vinny had kept quiet the whole night, which was probably the smart move because a lost guitar pick could cause another screaming match at this rate. This all was explained to Louis later, of course. He was too busy trying to turn off his brain back in his hotel room. The task did not go well, but there was a valiant attempt.

Harry’s charisma was gone as well, which was completely out of character for him. Even the audience was feeling the lack of energy. They still cheered and applauded, but nothing was the same as the high the tour started out on. Only a few shows in and everything was going downhill fast. Louis tried to wish Harry good luck before he went on stage, a small gesture considering, but he just responded with a sarcastic, single-syllable laugh. It could be said that the reply turned him into a self-fulfilling prophecy, but the night going well would’ve been more surprising.

Everyone felt like shit after the performance. Even Niall, who was there for socializing more than anything, was back at the hotel and in his own bed before midnight. It was hard for Louis not to think he was at fault for today, especially since there was no evidence to prove to him otherwise. That was the thought that sent him to sleep that night.

Never in his life had sleeping alone felt so lonely.


	6. Day 5 - Kansas City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update is so late, but I can finally say with confidence that it won't happen again since the story is almost finished! This update felt like quite the project itself and I've been editing it over and over and now I'm finally happy with it. Like always, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments and thanks so much for checking out my work!

Louis had to apologize. The last twenty-four hours had filled him with nothing but guilt and a throbbing migraine that refused to sort itself out. He may not have been the one throwing insults around, but he knew he steered them onto that track. How Harry was able to keep his cool with Maurice laying into him like that, Louis had no idea. How Maurice still had a _job_ after that was even more surprising. If Harry wasn’t going to fire him, he was sure Roger would’ve. If that was Louis taking those hits, he would’ve had Maurice thrown out of the plane midair. Well, maybe he’d let it land first, but it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying.

Figuring out how to apologize, now that was the kicker. Maurice should’ve been the one banging on Harry’s door begging for his forgiveness, but that wasn’t going to happen. He made it pretty clear their friendship wasn’t something he held in high regard. Why he was still here made absolutely no sense to Louis. He may not have had long to observe, but the dynamic between them didn’t seem to work no matter how you looked at it. Maurice was using him, and Harry was clearly smart enough to be able to see it. For some reason, he just didn’t care. Louis needed to read about a ten thousand word essay to be able to understand that.

Those were just his thoughts as he let the shampoo rinse out of his hair and swirl in bubbles down the drain. Louis woke up quite early this morning, but not because he had gotten a lot of rest. All night he’d been in and out of sleep, trying to find ways to stop the tossing and turning. At one point he even tried flipping through the bible in the drawer of the bedside table just for _something_ to keep occupied _,_ but that really wasn’t helping his situation. He hadn’t even picked up a bible since the last time he felt obligated to go to a Christmas Eve service at the church that his parents didn’t even frequent as much as they liked everyone to believe. There were just too many questions for religion to make sense to Louis. Too many moral dilemmas and double standards that didn’t quite line up.

He was getting off track now. That’s what showers tend to do. Something about that isolated space and warm water makes you think you can debate all the world’s biggest problems - and even more so your own - then forget it all by the time you pull back the curtain.

Niall was awake by the time a clothed and wet-haired Louis emerged from the bathroom. He was lounging on his bed with an arm behind his head as he browsed through the channels on the TV with the clicker. Not that there was much choice, but three channels seemed to spark and lose his interest every few seconds. Louis glanced at the clock on the bedside table as he stuffed his dirty clothes into the drawstring sack they’d been using for laundry. Well, it would be laundry once they got around to throwing it all in the wash. It was nearly ten in the morning and hunger was starting to kick in.

“Want to go down for breakfast?” he asked Niall. All of the hotels they had been staying in had restaurants and room service that made meals a lot easier since everything could be charged to the room, making the bill no one’s immediate concern.

“Definitely,” Niall said, clicking the TV off and reaching for his crutch that was leaning against the wall next to him. He was getting so good at walking with it that it was easy to forget he was still nursing that sprained ankle.

Louis followed him out the door, making sure to remember his key because you only get locked out once before becoming paranoid that it ever leaves your side. Getting a spare key when you’re on the VIP floor is nothing but a pain in the ass.

On the way out they passed the room Louis knew was Harry’s and he felt a sudden surge of necessity flow through him. He stared at the number on the door and felt his heart starting to pound, causing a nervous twist in his chest. At that moment, he felt like he couldn’t proceed with his day unless this apology happened right now. He had enough of the guilt and the silence. Someone needed to be the first person to begin the mend, and since Louis’ days left were becoming limited, he knew it had to be him.

Louis slowed his pace as they neared the elevators. “Can I meet you down there? Just grab a table or save me a spot with whoever else you find, yeah?”

“Sure, man. Want me to order you a coffee?” An empty elevator arrived and Niall wasted no time getting on.

“Please!” Louis called after him just before the door closed. He assumed his answer was heard.

To get himself psyched up, Louis took a few deep breaths before approaching the door. For all he knew, Harry wasn’t even up yet, but it didn’t hurt to try. Nerves really had been getting the best of him lately and he didn’t even have a bag strap to keep his fidgeting hands occupied. He had to remind himself that this was something he was good at. Next to writing, talking had become Louis’ forte - or maybe it was just charming bullshit. Either way, he was good at it. So, after running through a quick intro in his head, he knocked quietly on the door.

Footsteps could be heard approaching, which sent his heart into a flutter. He tried to listen for how heavy the footsteps were so he could gauge Harry’s mood, but quickly realized that the effort was virtually useless.

The door swung open and he tried his best for a friendly smile when-

“Oh!”

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were room service,” Maurice, to Louis’ surprise, said in his own even greater surprise.

Louis laughed uncomfortably while taking a step back. “No, I was just here to-”

“Who are you looking for?” The tone wasn’t completely aggressive, but it still gave off the vibe that he very much wanted Louis to go away.

“Well, this is Harry’s room, so…”

Maurice shook his head with his eyes closed tight as if this was too confusing. To Louis, it definitely was. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Looking past him, Louis noticed the light on under the bathroom door. The realization triggered the sound of running water in the background. Maurice must’ve noticed where his eyes fell because he pulled the door closer to his side.

“If I see Harry around, I’ll tell ‘im you’re looking for him.”

And then, with a tight-lipped smile, Maurice abruptly closed the door right in his face.

 

All throughout breakfast, Louis could not force himself to focus on his surroundings. With a cup of cold coffee in front of him, he sat next to Niall at a table with Doc and a few other crew members, but his mind was somewhere else completely. As he poked at his over-easy eggs and swirled the runny yoke around his plate, he tried to piece the clues of what he just saw together that would make any of yesterday make sense at all. He didn’t want to think about the most evident conclusion, but it was most evident for a reason.

Harry was sleeping with Maurice.

On the surface, it sounded ridiculous. They argued all the time, even if it was something as silly as who drank the last beer. Not to mention Maurice had a girlfriend. Or girlfriend _s_? His dating life wasn’t exactly easy to keep track of, not that Louis had any desire to whatsoever. Then again, his promiscuous habits did not rule out the possibility that there were even more people he was fooling around with…

To be completely clear, Louis didn’t have a problem with people engaging in promiscuous sex. Other people’s sex lives were none of his, or anyone’s, business. What he did have a problem with was being lied to. He thought they had an understanding. A ‘not right now’, but they were going to wait because they did want to be together. At least, Louis knew that’s what he wanted. Harry was making that possibility seem like only that. Maybe he should’ve been more clear. Or maybe it was time Harry started taking some of the blame for the fact that neither of them knew what the hell was going on between them. Louis was starting to wonder if the story was worth the impending heartache that might come with it.

Or maybe he was just getting ahead of himself.

“So, what do you figure?”

It took Louis a moment to realize that he was being spoken to, Niall’s face turned to his. He was also reminded of that fact that he had barely touched his breakfast.

“Hm?” he said, poking his fork into a fried potato and dipping into his dollop of ketchup.

“Did you not hear what I said?” Niall sounded slightly annoyed, but it couldn’t be from being hungry because his plate was clear. “There’s no show until tomorrow night so everyone has the day off. Anything you had in mind to do, or are you going to be busy with interviews?”

“Actually,” Louis said, his tone brightening because there was something he wanted to do that he was suddenly reminded of. “We’re in Kansas City, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Missouri?”

“That’s the one.”

“Do you remember who’s from Missouri?”

Niall was staring at him like he had four heads, his mouth slightly open, but this his eyes widened in realization. “Liam!” he exclaimed.

“I thought we could give him a call and see if he’s free. Maybe hang out tonight or invite him to the show tomorrow.”

“Or both,” Niall suggested.

It was clear from the beginning that Niall had a bit of a soft spot for Liam. He was a confused kid when they met, and likely still was since it had barely been a month since they said their goodbyes, but there was a different kind of person that Niall saw. Someone who wanted something out of life and was on the wrong track for whatever it was. That’s why he bought him the train ticket home. Even though Liam knew how to get back home, the poor guy was lost. Something he definitely needed was friends. Friends that would support him in his aspirations, but also take him backstage at a rock concert.

“I think I still have his number written down in my notebook. I’ll see if I can get a hold of him from the room phone when we go back up,” Louis said. He took a sip of his coffee but was reminded it was cold the moment it touched his lips. Cold coffee may have been fine when a deadline was fast approaching, but the taste alone gave him flashbacks of those long and stressful nights.

“Speaking of that, I should go shower. I’ll meet you back up there to call in a bit,” Niall said, and then he was off, leaving his plate and the conversation behind.

It didn’t take long for Louis to finish the rest of his breakfast, making small talk with Doc who he realized was actually not so bad if you got to a point where you were able to get a few words in yourself. Even his coffee he decided to choke down because he really did need the caffeine. He was feeling slightly better now that he had something to look forward to. The constant reminder that he still had to talk to Harry today sent his stomach in knots, but that was okay. As he said, he could’ve been overthinking the whole thing. There could be nothing to worry about. There was likely nothing to worry about.

The closest elevators were through the lobby, so that was the path Louis took. He didn’t take too long to finish up, just enough time to let Niall finish getting ready. Even though they didn’t know whether or not Liam was available, Louis was still ready to go out and just do anything to get away from the tour for a little while. For the time being, he didn’t mind throwing his work ethic out the window. He had two more days. Most profiles were done in less time than that. He could make it work, but for now, he needed to take a break, and he really wanted to see his new friends. If he was feeling guilty, he could call it networking.

Louis pressed the down arrow button and waited patiently until he heard the ding. And then the elevator opened, and Harry’s surprised face was looking back at him.

“Hi!” Louis said quite brightly considering they hadn’t spoken to each other since the plane and the quality of terms between them was indistinguishable.

“Hey, I was coming down to look for you,” Harry replied, quickly stepping off the platform and toward Louis. He placed his hands softly on the sides of each of his shoulders and Louis flinched at the touch, but didn’t shrug him off. “Can I talk to you?”

“I think that’s a good idea, yes.” Louis had only been begging to talk to him for five days, after all. These may not have been the best circumstances, but that was only looking at the professional side of things. Personally, this was the only way they could move forward.

Harry lead him down the hallway toward the ice machine room, keeping his distance as he opened the door for Louis.

“You want to talk in _here_?” Louis raised an eyebrow before crossing the threshold.

“It’s more private,” Harry said, his intentions sounding pure in his tone.

“Alright,” Louis agreed with a shrug. He made sure to flip the lights on as he entered. There wasn’t much to the room besides the fluorescent light above their heads and the machine shoved into the corner over the tiled floor. It felt more like a closet than a room. Harry shut the door behind them and it latched on its own.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Harry first sighed, leaning against the wall behind the door. That only really gave Louis the side of the ice machine to lean against, so he did. It was surprisingly warm.

“Me too,” Louis was eager to say, rubbing his clammy hands together awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have pushed the topic. It was just setting you up to argue and not fair at all to any of you. I’ll make sure to think through and phrase questions better in the future.” This apology sounded better suited for his boss than Harry, but it also felt right.

“You didn’t know anyone would react like that, especially Maurice. We should all have acted more professionally.”

“I won’t include any of it, I promise,” Louis assured him. The machine rumbled loudly behind him. He let some weight off so he didn’t have to feel it shake, but it was the only noise in the room besides the buzz of the lights.

“Up to you,” Harry said passively. Louis wanted to know what he meant by that, but he also had already made up his mind. He had an idea for the angle of the story and interpersonal conflict wasn’t a major part of it.

“Speaking of Maurice,” Louis said slowly instead, avoiding eye contact, “Can I ask you something about him?” If he didn’t ask now, his racing thoughts would drive him absolutely insane. By now, he trusted Harry to tell him the truth, even if he wasn’t sure how deserving he was of that trust.

“What is it?” Harry crossed his arms over his chest, holding his upper arms instead of folding them together. Rather than aggressive, it made him appear defensive. Louis always did feel bad about prying for details, but now this involved him. If his suspicions were correct, he deserved to know.

“Are you sleeping together?” Louis asked bluntly.

Harry’s eyes immediately widened, and then he started to cough rather violently. First into his hand, then he had to turn to his side bury his face into the inside of his elbow.

“Are you okay?” Louis stepped forward, both eyebrows raised in concern as he looked on helplessly. Then Harry started to laugh.

“I’m fine,” his shallow voice said between hacks. “Just choked on my saliva.”

“I’d get you water but you might have to wait a few minutes.” He pointed to the ice machine behind him.

“I’m okay. I just wasn’t expecting that.” Harry tried to clear his throat, but his face had gone bright red. “No, I’m not sleeping with Maurice.”

“What about this morning, then? I came looking for you and Maurice answered your door saying he was waiting for room service. Any reason you were ordering room service together?”

“So we didn’t have to go down to the lobby…?”

Louis rolled his eyes and let himself fall back against the wall. “You know what I mean. He was acting a little strange too, like he was hiding something.”

“Probably didn’t want you to be suspicious, which I guess had the opposite effect.”

“Me? How would he-”

“I told him everything,” Harry sighed, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. “Last night, after the show, he came to my room to apologize. I let him in and we ended up staying up all night talking and having a few drinks. Fights like that, they’re bad, but they happen a lot. He thinks he’s putting me in my place for the better and sometimes he’s right. Sometimes he’s a huge fucking asshole, like yesterday. I swear I almost kicked him off the tour right there, but he’s practically family, you know? I just couldn’t.”

Harry paused, but Louis watched on, waiting for more.

“Maurice knows a lot about me that most people don’t. He knew about you from the beginning. I didn’t tell him until last night, but he knew. I know he walks around like a human douchebag sometimes, but he does care about people, especially his friends. If you got to know him, I think you guys would get along.”

He didn’t know why, but that last comment rubbed Louis the wrong way. Automatically, he acted in defense. “I highly doubt that.” Nothing he’d seen Maurice do this week was reminiscent of a kind or caring person. They say the best indication of character is what you do when no one is looking, but that doesn't matter if you’re a shitty person in front of people anyway.

“I just thought it would be nice if you got along with my friends.”

“Wouldn’t it be even better if _you_ got along with your friends?” Louis retorted quite bitterly because he knew a manipulative friendship when he saw one. A simple apology wasn’t redeeming enough for his standards.

That threw Harry off, leaving his mouth slightly agape, but he didn’t let it stop him from continuing. “Well, Maurice gave me some advice. He mentioned something that I should probably tell you.”

Louis folded his arms together, meaning it in both the defensive and aggressive way. “What is it?” he asked, tightening his jaw. He was worried now because Harry wasn’t looking at him. Since he was keeping his eyes upward, Louis watched the way his neck moved as he gulped.

“Your suspicions were mostly right,” Harry began slowly, “but not about Maurice...”

Louis felt his chest tighten, suddenly aware of how uncomfortably small this room was. Not even a window on the door. Turning the lights out would leave them in the pitch darkness.

“Vinny,” Louis let out without having to hear the rest. Harry’s lack of immediate denial confirmed it all. “No, I get it. The sneaking around, how long you’ve been so close. And, I mean, he isn’t exactly unattractive, right?” His voice was getting noticeably louder.

“You have to let me explain,” Harry pleaded, getting closer to him. Louis wanted to push him away, but he just put a hand up between them instead. Harry stopped.

“I said, I get it! You don’t have to explain anything to me. I don’t control you. You can do whatever you want.” Louis reached for the handle, feeling like he might suffocate if he was in this tiny room any longer. Why did Harry want to talk in this tiny closet anyway? Was the irony too good pass up, or was he just that fucking ashamed that he didn’t want anyone else even in the vicinity? Louis didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to get as far away from Harry as possible.

“Louis, please!” Harry called after him as soon as he swung open the door.

“I at least hope he’s a better screw!” he shouted back, not caring if anyone could hear. His surroundings weren’t exactly a concern at the moment while he stormed right to the elevators, not looking back and praying that no one else was on when the doors open.

God must’ve pitied him because he got the whole thing to himself. He watched the door close in front after pressing the button about five thousand times, but Harry was nowhere to be seen. Good, he thought. He didn’t want to be chased. Part of him wanted to cry, but the other part was so mad he didn’t want to waste the energy. Besides, if Niall saw him like this then he would ask what was wrong, and Louis did not want to talk about it.

He felt cheated on even though that wasn’t technically what happened. They hadn’t talked about any sort of relationship, but he thought they had an understanding. When this was over, they were going to go on a date. Then hopefully a few more dates before they could make anything official between them. He had understood the limits and risks from the start, but he didn’t care. Honestly, it was something he barely thought about because daydreaming about being with Harry was so much better.

None of that mattered now. And the worst part was that he couldn’t even be mad because Vinny was first. Harry had known him for years, and Louis for barely a month. Why the hell he invited him along was a mystery at this point. Just to have someone else to fuck when he got bored? Louis wasn’t here to be a goddamn groupie. Groupies deserved better than that, and a better name.

This was probably Maurice’s plan the whole time when he encouraged Harry to tell him. It wasn’t that he was getting him to be a good guy. He knew Louis would get mad, as any normal person would. And then he figured Louis would leave. A simple way to get rid of ‘the Enemy’, right? Not just from the tour, but from their lives. Gone for good.

At the moment, as he finally got to his floor and the doors opened, just about anything felt like it would send Louis into either a fit of tears or rage. So without thinking about it, he decided to put on a mask. He calmed himself, faked a smile, and opened his hotel room door. If he was going to leave the tour, he couldn’t go quite yet. He still had some plans for the day.

“Good timing,” Niall said as soon as Louis entered the room. He was right, too, because he was just resting the phone on the receiver. “Liam’s up for getting together. Says he has the whole weekend off and wants to come along for whatever. He’s about half an hour away, but I said we can bring a driver to pick him up.”

“Perfect. Let’s go now,” Louis stated.

“Now? It’s morning.”

“Great time to start day drinking!”

“Day drinking?! Wha-”

“I’ve had a rough morning that we don’t need to talk about, but getting shitfaced by noon sounds fantastic right about now. I know you don’t drink at the moment, but if you could make sure I end up back here and don’t choke on my own vomit - or preferably, not vomit at all - that would be great.”

Niall stood up with a stern expression and limped across the room since his crutch was out of reach. He placed a hand firmly on Louis’ shoulder. “You got it, my friend. I’m sure Liam won’t turn that down and I don’t mind babysitting.”

“Perfect.” Louis grinned the widest, fakest grin his face had ever produced. “Let’s go,” he said, double checking his pocket to make sure his wallet was there. This time, he didn’t bother with the bag. He wouldn’t be taking notes.

“Oh, but Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“At least try not to get shitfaced until, like, three at the earliest.”

Louis let out a short laugh, and that one was actually real. “No promises.”

 

The first thing Louis noticed about Liam was that he cut his hair. It wasn’t too long back when they first met, especially compared to most other hippie kids. But the hair that once just grazed his shoulders now sat barely two inches off his head. He still looked good, but different. Cleaner, as well, but half of his memories of Liam involved both of them covered in mud and only a pond to bathe in.

Louis had since filled Liam in on the secrets he had kept over those four days. Well, not all of the secrets. He told him about the Woodstock story, and how the reason he was here was to interview Harry. Otherwise, just joining him on tour for a week when he barely knew the guy was kind of odd. Unless you were Niall, that is. Instead of being upset about the slight lie, Liam was awestruck at the revelation and had about a million questions about who Louis had met and what shows he’d seen. The answers were never as thrilling as he hoped they would one day be, but at least he could name drop Led Zeppelin from his first big story. That seemed to satisfy Liam’s curiosity.

Louis also forgot how much Liam liked to talk. His beliefs hadn’t changed much, but it was clear that being back home with his parents influenced him. Somewhere he had found a drive that made him want to do more in life than travel as a “penniless stoner” (Liam’s words, not Louis’). He was yet to find a proper job besides working the till at his dad’s hardware store, something he’d been doing since he was eleven years old, but his uncle got him a job interview at his company in Illinois.

“When’s the interview?” Louis asked as they sat around a table at a pub downtown, eating burgers for lunch and nursing beers.

“I’m heading out on the train on Monday,” he said with actual pride. This interview was something he was genuinely eager for.

“The next tour stop is in Chicago on Sunday night. Why don’t you just come with us?” Niall offered. He liked to think that this tour was a little mobile get-together that anyone could join.  It wasn’t like anyone was being stopped.

“Well, it is just outside of Chicago. I could probably get my uncle to pick me up from there instead of the train station.”

“Perfect, then you can come along!” Niall exclaimed, patting him once on the back.

“You’re sure it’s okay?” He looked at Louis for the answer, as if he had any authority in the situation at all.

“Honestly, I don’t think anyone would even notice someone new came along,” he shrugged. “You’ll have a lot of fun, though.” More so than Louis had because for him, this could be no work and all play. Louis was actually a bit jealous.

“Can we have another round, please?” Niall called after the server as she passed. Louis noticed he’d been drinking as well, just not nearly as much. They did have a driver on standby, but he still had to be the babysitter.

Louis was buzzed, but not drunk, which meant another round sounded great. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 2:30. Maybe he could’ve made that promise after all.

After that was when the day took a turn and the alcohol was doing what it did best: made Louis feel totally emotionally numb.

Dinner was when things started to get a little blurry. He remembered ordering pasta and far too much gin, a combination he’d later regret. It was likely that the tonic was what didn’t sit well after having so many, but they tasted good and went down like water.

Speaking of water, Louis was pretty sure they were on a boat. He remembered something about the Mississippi and card tables, but he hoped to God he didn’t gamble in his state because he would be the one going home a penniless stoner. Oh, there was also a lot of pot. Or something they were smoking, and he was good with most typical things. The best part was that he was having fun. At least, the illusion of fun. And Niall barely left his sight like the good babysitter he was.

At the moment, Louis was sat at a round table, staring off at the dance floor where Liam had found someone to attempt a two-step with. They both looked quite ridiculous, to be honest, but at least they were having fun. Whatever room they were in -- a bar, a ballroom, he had no idea -- (do boats have ballrooms?) but it was big and damn did it have a lot of people. All ages of adults too, not just young people trying to party. The lights were dimmed and the music was loud. Like, everyone here would likely be going home with a sore throat loud. Every breath Louis took in was filled with smoke, and some not even from his own cigarette. Just tobacco since he had to fulfill his nicotine craving, but the bitter scent of grass was also making itself known.

At the moment, Louis was sat across from Doc who had joined them at a point in time Louis didn’t quite remember. As they both sipped their drinks, Louis with his gin and tonic and Doc with his beer, they crunched on the bowl of free shelled peanuts between them that had to be full of germs. The salt went great with the drinks and the mindless eating was perfect for their current state of mind.

“I want to do an album, man. I really think I can,” Doc mused, speaking loudly over the music. He had one hand cupped around his glass that was now just ice and a straw. “Touring with Harry has been a blast, honestly. I love that guy like a brother, but I need to spread my wings, you know? I can play guitar and I’ve been singing background vocals for a couple years, so why not? What do you think?”

Louis had his arm rested over the back of his chair, limp at the wrist while his ankle was crossed over his knee. “Hell yeah,” he agreed, not even feigning his excitement. “You can tour the world. Sell millions.”

“I don’t know how I’d do it without the other guys, though. Maybe I should just form a new band with Vinny and Maurice.”

“Nah, fuck them,” Louis said, waving a hand in the air before ashing his cigarette. His eyes were half closed, but not everything was blurry. Just most things. “You don’t need those other guys. Especially not someone who just hogs the spotlight.”

“Well, it is Harry’s tour.”

“This one is. Just wait it’s your show. All those guys are gonna eat their hearts out.”

Doc let out a laugh and a snort came along with it. That made Louis break into his own fit of giggles. He didn’t know why he spent all this time thinking this guy was annoying. Doc was a real riot. This was who he should’ve been hanging out with the whole week. He was pretty sure they had more in common than anyone. At least, while drunk they did.

“I’m telling ya, man, I’ll write your first review. You gotta get me into the show, of course. I’ll make sure everyone knows how great it is. Your album will be flying off the shelves.”

“Just from your one review?”

“Well-”

“I can’t go making deals with the Enemy now, can I?”

Louis smirked. He was starting to not mind the nickname. “How about you go get the Enemy another drink, instead?”

“Gin and tonic?”

“You got it.”

As Doc stood up he pointed two finger guns at Louis, making the “pew” noise with his mouth. Louis tried to half-ass the gesture back, but ended up spilling what was left of the melted ice from his drink on his shirt. “Shit,” he muttered himself, then quickly shrugged it off when he remembered how quickly water dries.

“Looks like you’re having quite the night.”

That soft, almost angelic voice could only belong to one person who was practically gliding into the chair Doc had just abandoned.

“Your timing is always awfully convenient,” Louis said, absentmindedly poking at the leftover ice cubes with his straw.

“How’s that?” Deja asked with a curious smile, her hand caressing her cheek with her elbow propped up on the table. She was wearing a long, flowy dress as always, the skirt draped over her legs like a thin blanket.

Louis pressed the butt of his smoke firmly into the ashtray, letting it join its three other friends that also left the pack behind. “Every time things start to go to shit, you appear and disappear without a trace. I thought you weren’t real for a long time. Just some acid trip from the festival, but Harry sees you too.”

“Well, this time around he needed me a little more.”

“You’re not real, are you?”

“I think you have a very narrow idea of what’s real.”

“Can everyone else around here see you, or do I look like I’m having a conversation with a ghost right now?”

“Who’s to say when you’re this far from being sober?” She raised an eyebrow, nodding towards his drink. Louis glanced down at it sheepishly.

“I had a rough morning. I assume I don’t need to tell you about it.”

“No, but I do know you’re good at talking. Listening is what you need a little practice in.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t think you have a habit of jumping to conclusions?”

Louis leaned his head back slightly in offence. “Jumping to conclusions? He told me what was going on. I acted how anyone would. It’s done, okay? I’m over it. I’m leaving tomorrow. I don’t care about the fucking story anymore. I don’t care about any of this.”

“That’s what the ten ounces of gin running through your veins is telling you.”

“I haven’t had that many,” he scoffed.

Deja smiled. “Whatever you say. But I think you know what you want and you’re letting the wrong emotion take the lead. How do you think Harry is feeling right now?”

“How the hell should I know?” he snapped, but recoiled when she didn’t. It was hard to be angry with Deja because no matter how much he didn’t like what she had to say sometimes, he knew she was always right.

“Do you think he’s happy with what happened, or do you think he wishes it went a little different?”

Louis stilled at that question. During his day of brooding and drinking, trying to forget about Harry while not being able to stop thinking about him, he never actually thought about how Harry felt about what happened. Whether he was upset that Louis ran off or eager that it could just be him and Vinny now. All Louis cared about was how angry and betrayed he felt, and somewhere along the line forgot that this wasn’t all about him.

“So you’re saying I should talk to him? That it’s that easy, huh?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m saying you need to listen. Not even analyze. Listen”

“Hey, man. Doc told me to bring this to you,” Niall said, setting the fresh drink down on the paper coaster in front of Louis. He didn’t have to look back to the seat Deja was in to see she was gone. By now, he knew the drill.

Niall sat in the third chair right next to Louis and facing the dance floor. Liam was still out there, a goofy grin on his face as he spun that girl around.

“Thanks,” Louis said, swapping the glasses and bringing the new straw to his mouth. Each sip was just as refreshing as the last. He didn’t know why he spent his college years drinking cheap whiskey when these had been around.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Where is Doc, anyway?”

“Chatting with Vinny at the bar, I think. He just showed up with Maurice.”

Louis felt his face fade pale. “What? What are they doing here?” His chest began to tighten as he sat up straight.

Niall gave him an odd look. “We invited them when we invited Doc, remember? They just couldn’t come right away.”

“Oh, right,” Louis said, even though he barely even remembered Doc showing up. “Is, uh- Is Harry here too?”

“Nah, Vinny said he wasn’t up for it. Told them to go ahead.”

“Right,” Louis nodded, feeling the sudden urge to leave. He knew he was quite drunk and slightly incoherent, and that was all the more reason he would be much better off in the comfort of his own bed. Taking a glance at his watch, he realized it was only eleven. Not a wildly late night, but the evening had taken away his energy quite quickly. That’s what day drinking does to you.

Approaching them quickly from the dance floor, Liam arrived with his hand holding that of the girl he was dancing with. He was looking a little dazed and slightly drunk himself. Louis could’ve sworn someone turned the music up.

“The boat docks on the hour, right?” he asked eagerly, yelling just to be heard. Louis had no idea what that meant, so they both turned to Niall.

“Yeah, why?” he replied slowly.

“You guys still have that car with the driver, right?”

 

Almost half an hour later, Louis found himself in the passenger seat of their chauffeured car, Liam in the backseat with his tongue down a stranger’s throat, as they pulled up to the lobby doors of the hotel. Niall opted to stay behind to watch over the others because somehow he ended up as the responsible one, but not before making sure the three of them got in the car safely. He was such a good friend, Louis thought. He needed more friends like Niall, and Doc too. If only he didn’t have to leave them all behind come morning.

Without being prompted, Louis tossed Liam and the girl his hotel room keys, deciding he could easily knock on one of the roadie’s doors to find a place to sleep. Someone had to have a spare couch or bed. At this point, he didn’t even mind taking the floor.

“Make sure you use the bed on the right. That’s Niall’s,” Louis mentioned as he opened the door. Liam didn’t reply, but Louis trusted that his instructions were heard. It didn’t really matter if he was leaving tomorrow anyway, he supposed.

“Do you need any help, sir?” the driver asked politely, trying to ignore what was happening in the backseat.

“I’ll manage,” Louis sighed.

“Have a good night, then.”

At that, Louis just laughed. “Too late for that.”

Stumbling through the sliding doors, all Louis could think about was how excited he was to go to sleep. Behind him, he heard a giggling, then turned around to see Liam and his new friend sprint through the lobby and towards the elevators. That was one elevator ride he did not want to be a part of, so he slumped himself against the wall and waited for the doors to close before pushing the button for himself.

“Thanks, man,” Liam said, jingling the keys before he was out of sight. Louis offered a thumbs up and a tight-lipped smile in return even though neither were seen.

It took a moment for his eyes to focus, but Louis eventually spotted the number he was looking for and pressed the button three times until it finally lit up. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the wall and felt the motion of the tiny room lifting upwards. The movement wasn’t great for his sudden dizziness, but the loud ding was welcome just because it meant he could get off.

This led him to his next problem: figuring out where the hell he was going to sleep.

First, because he knew their room was so close, Louis knocked on the door of Ron and Bobby, two roadies he had sort-of befriended almost exclusively through bumming smokes off of each other. He knocked four times, waiting an impatient ten seconds between each before calling their names, but eventually gave up. Either they weren’t there or he was being ignored, and neither reason helped him out much.

Across from his own room, he remembered, were Doc and Maurice. As much as he hated Maurice’s guts right about now, he could tolerate being in the same room as long as Doc was there to keep the civility.  

Pulling himself together, Louis moved further down the hall scanning the numbers on the doors and trying to process them. He found his own room first, then spun halfway around and took a step forward. He knocked twice, loudly.

“Doc, Maurice, open up!” he said pressing his face against the door. He tried to listen for footsteps, but the focus instead clued him into what was going on across the hall.

Gross.

He knocked two more times. “Come on, I need somewhere to crash tonight.” His tone was winey on purpose because he was feeling quite desperate.

And then it clued into him that it wasn’t that they were ignoring him, but that they weren’t there. Because they had gone out that night. With him.

The realization prompted him to reach down and try the handle. An empty room was even better than a spare couch and definitely better than the floor. But of course the door was locked, and he didn’t have a bobby pin or the skills to get it open.

Maybe someone would come back soon from their night out and take pity on him. He knew most people on tour in passing, if not by first name. Before the Los Angeles show, Harry had taken the time to walk with him around the venue, introducing him to the crew and everyone who worked behind the scenes. They were quite welcoming, and that was when he knew all those things said about Harry being stuck up and a liar weren’t true. He saw the kindness. He knew how much he cared.

But not when it came to Louis, apparently. Harry could stick his kindness up his ass for all he cared. He may have been a good person on the surface, but he still broke Louis’ heart. And maybe he had no right to be so invested so soon, but he was travelling halfway across the country for him only to find out he was in second place to someone else. Maybe Harry was a liar, and Louis was too blinded by hope to see it.

But because he was still feeling those wonderfully intoxicating effects of ten ounces of gin, plus whatever else he likely drank over the course of the day, his anger was slipping in and out as he remembered the task at hand. He tried two more doors to no luck, and then realized he wasn’t quite sure what part of the floor he was on. The numbers weren’t doing much for the confusion and he really did consider just finding a comfy spot on the carpet and calling it a night.

It was quite nice carpet, actually. Relatively soft compared to any cheap hotel he ever stayed in, and it had this pattern of brown overlapping squares and lines running through them. Staring at it steadily, he wondered if he could pass a sobriety test. Just walk a few feet along a straight line. Lifting his hands from his sides, Louis placed one foot carefully in front of the other and took a step. Then another, and another. He was doing quite well considering, so that’s when he got cocky. The quickened pace caused the front of his foot to hook around the back of his ankle. He stumbled to one side while trying to keep his balance and slammed right into someone’s door, landing halfway on the ground. Naturally.

The door opened and what Louis’ back was leaning against now became the floor. A face hovered over him upside down, but his eyes were still closed.

“Are you alright? I kept hearing yelling and banging out here, I was wondering what the hell was going on.”

“I’m fine,” Louis mumbled as he sat up, feeling arms at his sides until he was helped to his feet. It took until he was turned around properly to realize who the helpful stranger was.

“Goodbye,” he said quickly after taking one look at Harry’s face. But before he could even walk away, Harry was gently grabbing his wrist.

“Hold on, you’re drunk. Were you looking for your room? I can show you where it is and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Louis thought he was doing a good job of keeping up the sober act, actually, and was a little offended that Harry could see right through it, but decided to let it go. “My room is occupied,” he said.

“Occupied?” Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning a hip against the doorway.

“By Liam and the girl he took home from the boat.”

“Liam? The guy we met at the music festival?”

“That’s the one,” Louis nodded slowly. He had to remind himself to open his eyes again.

“What’s he doing here? Wait, what boat?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Harry, I am not up for a conversation at the moment.”

“Alright, well,” Harry cleared his throat, then backed up to make room in the doorway. “You can sleep here.”

“I’m not interested in a threesome.”

“Or you can sleep in the hallway, you dick.”

Louis mostly meant it as a joke, but he did spend part of today wondering if that could be the reason Harry had invited him this week. For the life of him, he really couldn’t find a good reason.

“Do you have two beds?”

“No, but I can sleep on the floor, I don’t care.”

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” Louis mumbled as he slumped his way into the room. He was hoping to be greeted by a couch that seemed at least semi-inviting, but there was just a bed, a TV, a desk, and a floor. The room was even smaller than the one he was sharing with Niall. Whatever, he quickly decided. He wasn’t so bitter that he couldn’t share a bed with him when the only intention was to sleep. That’s all he wanted to do.

Harry let the door close behind him while Louis was taking a quick look around. The room wasn’t as messy this time, but a guitar and some papers were spread across the bed. While Harry began cleaning them up, Louis noticed a bottle of whiskey and an empty glass next to the bedside table. No other mysterious substances, this time.

“You’ve been drinking too,” he pointed out.

“Not as much as you,” Harry said, almost with a laugh as he dropped the stack of papers on the desk and leaned the guitar against it. “Sometimes I drink a bit when I write. When you need to get the emotional stuff out, it helps you to be vulnerable without holding back.”

Louis just stood there a little awkwardly, not sure what to do or say.

“I do want to talk about what happened this morning,” Harry continued. “Not right now, obviously, but maybe tomorrow we could-”

Right then, Louis bolted to the bathroom. The feeling was sudden, and it came in a rush. He slammed the door behind him and barely had time to lift the seat before he was puking out his insides. For the second day in a row, at that. Harry didn’t immediately come to the door asking what was wrong because he could probably hear, and Louis was silently grateful because he wanted those few minutes alone. Gin and tonic was definitely not as good coming up as it was going down.

He didn’t know how long it had been before he was able to pick himself up and get to the sink. After splashing some water on his face and rinsing his mouth out about ten times, he squeezed some toothpaste onto his finger from the tube that was sitting on the counter in an attempt to brush his teeth. None of it made him feel better, but it made him feel okay about facing that room again.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked from the other side of the door once Louis twisted the tap off.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Louis replied. He ripped a towel off its hanger to pat his face dry.

“Okay. Drink some water and let me know if you need anything,” he instructed, then Louis could hear his footsteps leaving.

Water actually was a good idea. He took one of the hotel paper cups off the stack in the corner and filled it up three times, downing each refill all at once. Now that actually made him feel better. He thought about hunting down some saltines in preparation for tomorrow’s hangover, but he wanted sleep even more.

Leaving the bathroom, he noticed the rest of the room had gotten considerably darker. The only light on was from the nightstand next to the side of the bed Harry wasn’t lying in. Since he didn’t turn around, Louis had to assume that Harry was already asleep. Without a word, he pulled off his long pants so he didn’t have to sleep in them, then clicked off the light as he crawled under the blankets. The warm feeling enveloped him, but more so on the right side than the left.

He kept his back to Harry as he waited for sleep to come, but it wouldn’t because he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Harry was right next to him. His breaths were slow and loud enough that Louis could hear, so he had to be asleep. The fact that the alcohol was wearing off was far too prominent in his brain. Sobering up before you fall asleep has got to be one of the worst feelings because everything you did that night comes rushing back before you can forget it. At least the blackout parts would be gone forever. He hoped it wasn’t as embarrassing as tripping against someone’s door while failing a self-given sobriety test. Harry’s door, at that.

Louis was still mad at him. Actually, he was pretty furious, but he didn’t want to be. As much as Harry kind of broke his heart, he still took up space in what was leftover. How cheesy was that? Louis spent most of his life being annoyed by the mushy idea of romance, and now there was a boy who made him want to buy roses and go on picnics and have a candlelight dinner while violin music played in the background.

What a fucking joke.

Laying on his left side was getting uncomfortable, so he flopped onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. The curtains were pulled closed and all the lights were off so closing his eyes or opening them gave him the same view. He turned again and he could suddenly sense a face very close to his. Specifically, Harry’s face. He tried to tell if his eyes were closed, but that would be pretty hard to do without asking him or touching him, neither of which he wanted to do.

He did have one other idea, though. Slowly and carefully, he dragged his hand up the sheet from where it was previously rested at his side. He felt where the mattress dipped and knew that was where Harry’s arm was. With his knuckle, he lightly brushed against it, almost like it was an accident. He was just moving his hand, maybe to scratch his nose, and he happened to touch him. When he pulled his hand away, nothing happened. So he did it again, this time moving his knuckle back and forth, barely touching him but still feeling the warmth of his skin.

Harry didn’t pull away. Instead, he moved his arm closer and lower so his hand was near Louis’. The motion made Louis hold his breath. That wasn’t a mistake. It was too precise to be a mistake. And then he felt Harry’s pinky brush against the side of his hand.

It all felt ridiculous, this game they were playing. Gentle touches without speaking and the inside of Louis’ stomach feeling like butterflies were emerging from their cocoons by the dozen every second. This was how ten-year-olds should feel around their first crush, not a twenty-two-year-old with someone who he had done much more than this with already.

Sometimes he wished he could go back to that weekend. There were no showers and minimal food, but everything made sense. Or maybe it was just that nothing needed to make sense.

Louis turned his hand over so his palm was facing up. He didn’t expect it to feel so sudden when Harry slid his fingers between them, closing their hands together.

So Harry was awake. That answered that question.

His hands were soft but his fingertips were rough and calloused. Louis remembered that from the other moments where they ended up this close. Those moments always felt urgent and needy and were, well, driven by how horny they were. But this wasn’t one of those moments. For some reason, it was so much more intimate.

“Is this okay?” Harry whispered even though no one else was in the room. The sound of his quiet voice left a trail of goosebumps down Louis’ arms and legs.

“Yeah,” he whispered back. “It’s okay.”


	7. Day 6 - Kansas City (Part Two)

Louis’ insides felt like a shriveled up raisin. Never in his life had he craved water so much. As soon as his eyes popped open, he bolted for the bathroom sink and chugged another three cups full on top of what he had last night. The sudden sloshing below his stomach made it apparent that his bladder was next on the priority list, and thankfully he had already made it this far, otherwise, he was pretty sure he was going to explode.

Relief had never quite felt as sweet as that quick intake and outtake of fluids. If he was alone he might’ve let out a moan, perfectly aware that that was pretty weird to do while taking a piss.

Oh, right. He wasn’t alone.

Although his time between waking up and ending up back in the bathroom was pretty brief, he did register that the room was mostly dark except for the sunlight peeking through the closed curtains. Unless Harry left the room altogether, it was likely that he was still asleep. Louis checked his watch to realize it was only 9 in the morning. He was pretty impressed with his post-drunk self, to be honest. He didn’t even have a headache.

When he opened the door, Louis realized the room had been filled with sunlight. Across from the bed, the window revealed the view of the city behind an outdoor pool. That wasn’t what he first noticed, though. Instead, he was looking at Harry who was stumbling around the room in his sleepy state to round up some clothes to wear because, yes, he was the type to sleep only in his underwear. By now, Louis knew well enough that he had no shame.

“Good morning,” Harry smiled at him once he registered his presence. Now sober, Louis was much more able to process his continued anger towards him, but he could act civil. Harry did give him a place to sleep, after all.

He also spent almost a month lying to him.

“Morning,” Louis replied, busying himself with sliding his pants from last night back over his legs. He was much less comfortable with the nudity.

“Feeling any better?”

“Much,” he nodded.

The silence that followed made Louis want to sprint out of the room. He wondered if his own room was still occupied or if he could hide out there until he figured out his flights back home.

“Listen, uh,” Harry continued, scratching the side of his neck. “Do you have any plans this morning?”

Initially, his plans were going to involve writing, interviewing, or preferably a combination of the two. That was before he decided to give up. It wasn’t a decision he was okay with, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could force himself to suffer through this. The easy choice was to leave. It was a cop out, and for the first time in his life, Louis was going to take it.

But that’s not what he told Harry.

“Why?” he asked.

“I was wondering if you’d wanna go for breakfast, so maybe we could talk? I already cleared my morning, but no pressure. If you’d let me, I’d really like to explain myself.”

There was a softness in his tone that Louis couldn’t exactly ignore. He wanted to say no because, again, it was the easy way out. But Harry was right about one thing. Louis never gave him a chance to explain himself. He heard everything he didn’t want to hear and then he left. But he never really did listen.

“Just breakfast?”

“Just breakfast,” Harry confirmed.

Louis took one deep and long breath through his nose, resting his hands on his hips while he jutted one leg out in thought. “Alright,” he eventually agreed with a sigh.

The way Harry’s face lit up at the response gave him the tiniest indication that maybe he did make the right choice, but his gut wasn’t exactly keeping up a track record of reliability.

“Great,” he said, the relief in his voice escaping with the word. “Let me just shower and then we can go. I’ll be quick.”

He crossed the room in only a few long strides before closing the bathroom door behind him. Louis just stood there, fixing the pockets on his pants and wondering why the hell he thought Harry deserved another chance. 

On the nightstand next to him, the phone began to ring. The shower water was already running so Louis was the only person available to answer it. He felt weird doing so considering this was Harry’s room, therefore it was definitely someone looking for him. Something about that made Louis feel unqualified to answer, even if it was just to take a message. But he couldn’t just let it keep ringing, so he folded one leg under himself as he sat down on the bed and picked up the receiver.

“Um, hello?” he said as if he was unsure what this strange contraption called a ‘phone’ even was.

“Who is this?” the other voice asked. Louis took immediate offense to the question even though he really had no right to.

“Who is  _ this _ ?” he retorted.

“Is this not Harry’s room?”

“It is, but he’s in the shower. I can take a message for him.”

Louis began twisting the cord around his finger tightly, knowing if he did it tight enough that it would turn purple.

“Okay,” the voice on the other end sounded unsure but vaguely familiar. “Can you just ask him if he knows where Louis is and if he does, Liam has a phone message for him.”

He let the cord fall. “This is Liam?!”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“This  _ is  _ Louis! How did you not recognize me?” he asked, even though he clearly did not recognize Liam’s voice either.

“Oh, hey! Sorry, man, it’s early. I wondered where you went off to last night. Thanks for letting me use your room, by the way.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he said, his voice notably flat. He did offer the keys voluntarily, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Liam was already with the girl and had no assigned room. He was just doing what any good friend would.

“Anyway, about the message. It sounded important. A guy named Ralph said he was your editor and was looking for an update. Said he needs to hear from you ASAP.”

“Shit,” Louis mumbled to himself. He was supposed to be calling Ralph with an update every other day. Hell, he should’ve had a rough draft almost finished by now, but he had virtually nothing. Some answers to pointless questions and notes that were barely legible. He was, quite frankly, totally fucked.

“Do you need me to give you the number?”

Louis copied down the number Liam recited over the phone on the notepad sitting next to it, but halfway through realized it was the usual work number that he had memorized only days after he started his job there. His mind was lacking any focus at the moment.

“Thanks, man,” Louis said as he dropped the pen back on the table. “Quick before you go, can I ask why you called here looking for me?”

“It was Niall’s first suggestion when I asked where you were. You and Harry did seem close when we all met, so it made sense he was most likely to know.”

Louis let out a breath of laughter through his nose. He didn’t know what else he expected, really. “Well, you got it,” he said.

“I’m going back to sleep until my entire body no longer feels like it belongs in a graveyard. I’ll see you later today though, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll come find you and Niall later. See you around,” Louis said, then hung the phone back up. He didn’t exactly need any friends to come looking for him, especially when he didn’t know where Harry was intending to take him for breakfast. The hotel restaurant was convenient, albeit not at all private considering the entire tour crew was staying there. Spending the whole meal uninterrupted was unlikely, but kind of necessary if they really wanted to talk.

But Louis had to forget about that for a second because the next phone call he needed to make was to Ralph. There was no way anything that man had to say was going to involve good news. Not only had Louis forgotten to update him, but he’d barely even spent his time here working. He was spending the magazine’s dime on late-night room service and five days of dealing with his own personal bullshit. It was unlikely that he would lose his job over this, especially after the Woodstock story, but even if he did, he wasn’t sure how much it would faze him. Give it a few days and he would be a broken down mess if that was the case, but at the moment he felt numb to any emotion. It was almost empowering. He felt unstoppable only because there wasn’t much left to disappoint him more than these last few days had. 

Holding the phone between his shoulder and his cheek, Louis dialed the numbers, then straightened his neck as he gripped the phone in his hand and waited for the ringing to stop.

While they exchanged in greetings, Louis could sense the tense undertone in Ralph’s voice. He was trying too hard to sound pleasant, and Ralph was rarely ever pleasant. Instead, he was direct and to the point. That made his intimidating nature somehow reassuring. There was no need to guess what he was thinking because he would just come out with it. Once he became overly polite, that’s when Louis became suspicious.

“What are your notes looking like, Tomlinson?” he asked in that unfitting gruff voice that didn’t match his appearance. Maybe that was why he did so much of his negotiating over the phone.

“They’re coming together. I’m getting on the right track to having a draft ready by-”

“You don’t already have a first draft?”

“Well, I-”

“I haven’t even heard any quotes yet. You were supposed to deliver your first two thousand words yesterday. Do you have anything at all?”

Louis barely had two hundred coherent words written down.

“It’s… a think piece.” Louis threw the word out meaninglessly.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Ralph said. Not aggressively, though. It sounded disappointed more than anything. That was almost always worse.

The thing was, Louis didn’t care much about saving this story. More than anything, it was his reputation and credibility that was on the line. If he couldn’t bring anything back, he would be seen as a failure. If he stayed and bullshitted the article, he would be turning in something he wasn’t even close to being proud of. Either way, he was the one walking out with the losing hand.

“I promise I’ll have something by the time I get back,” he said earnestly. 

The pause in response was nerve-wracking.

“We’re pushing your story, Louis. I won’t wipe it completely, so we’ll see what you have and maybe we can salvage something in the New Year. For now, we need to go with the Joe Cocker profile. It’s current, it’s good, and it’s ready to go. I can’t wait on something that could turn out to be nothing.”

Louis hated how right he was. He also hated how nice he was being about all of this. It was obvious he let Ralph down, but he let himself down too. Call it a bruised ego, but he had his hopes high about this story and as much as he wanted to blame everyone else, it was his own fault that he couldn’t follow through.

“I understand,” Louis replied quietly.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, kid. Not every pitch ends in a home run. You’re gonna end up with some shitty stories. Ones you’ll want to rip up before you can even get them to your editor. That’s the way it goes. You got lucky early. Just deal with the bruised pride and move on.”

Ralph’s advice was good, but Louis wasn’t interested in hearing any of it. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Take care, Tomlinson.”

Louis dropped the phone and fell back onto the mattress, feeling like he wanted to scrape the skin off of his face. He rubbed his eyes until he was seeing swirls of colours. He didn’t even know what to feel. Anger, disappointment, embarrassment. There was no need to tell anyone, he decided. Especially not Harry. He already knew he was leaving today. No one needed to know that there was another reason why. Besides, Harry must’ve lost hope in the story a while ago. Louis was the only one left still holding on.

The running water stopped and Louis forced himself to put on his happy face. He needed to get through this breakfast. If nothing else, he needed some closure before he got the hell out of here. The sooner he could forget this entire week happened, the better.

Not long after did Harry emerge with fresh clothes and his hair partially dry from the hotel hair dryer. He looked eager to go, and Louis quietly followed out the door. Given his state last night, he probably should’ve showered first too, but the sink and face cloth bath he gave himself in the bathroom was good enough for now. He didn’t want to have to prolong this anymore.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Louis wondered as they were patiently waiting for the ding of the elevator.

“There’s a small cafe around the corner that I thought looked nice. Do you want to go there?”

“Sure,” Louis nodded, just grateful that it was away from this building.

They walked towards the cafe in relative silence, pretending to enjoy the morning sunlight. It was quite warm for a fall day, but the temperature wasn’t exactly what was on Louis’ mind. Too many other stressors were taking up space

He wondered if he should take a vacation. Not that he actually got any vacation days at work yet, but what was stopping him from driving down to Santa Cruz for a weekend to just relax on a beach and turn off his brain?

Louis thought that maybe he expected this to be a vacation. A week away is a trip, no doubting that, but the last thing he was doing was relaxing. It should be fun, getting to come along on a cross country tour. He almost felt ungrateful for not enjoying his time, but he also had a pretty damn good excuse.

On the patio outside of the cafe, they found a small wooden table shaded by a wide red umbrella. Moments after they took a seat, a waitress came to offer them menus and they each ordered a coffee. Louis debated asking her to just leave the pot. It was unlikely she would hear him, though. She was paying an awful lot more attention to Harry’s side of the table.

“Good coffee,” Harry commented. He drank it black, something that Louis could hardly fathom. The bitterness of coffee wasn’t the good part. The cream and sugar you added to it were.

“Do you think she recognizes you?”

“What?”

“The waitress.” Louis’ eyes followed her and it was pretty obvious she was stealing glances in their direction while filling up another table's coffee. “She definitely knows who you are.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder just as she disappeared back inside. “Maybe,” he shrugged.

“Does that not make you a little self-conscious?”

“You get used to it.”

Louis nodded slowly, painfully aware that the reason they were here wasn’t for casual chitchat. This wasn’t some sort of nice morning breakfast date. They were here to figure out what the hell was going on between them, and Louis still just wanted to go home.

“Why did you bring me here?” Louis asked bluntly.

Setting his mug down on the table, Harry took in a sharp breath through his nose. “I needed to set the story straight,” he said.

Louis folded his arms tightly across his chest. “Alright. Say what you have to say then.”

“I’m not sleeping with Vinny. Present tense.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Harry rolled his eyes, falling back into his chair in frustration. “You’re being difficult on purpose. Can’t you just listen?”

“Fine,” Louis stated.

“We used to have this… thing,” Harry continued once he trusted Louis was going to stop deflecting everything he said. “It was always casual. Friends with benefits, I guess. It was - it is - complicated, I guess.”

“I don’t want to keep going with this if you’re seeing someone else.”

“Nothing has happened between us since I met you. It’s done, and even if you leave it’s still done. I just thought you should know that. I also think you should know that I want you to stay.” Louis was staring at his hands, but the last sentence made his eyes flicker up. “Even if it’s not for me or for the story. Hell, stay for Niall or Doc. I just like having you around. But if you don’t want to be here anymore, I understand.”

Unsure how to reply, Louis instead watched Harry’s movements. The way he didn’t let go of his mug so he could tap an anxious finger against the side. Harry was looking directly at him as well. It was intimidating, in a way, to have his full attention. During their interviews, they would talk, but Louis was the middleman. His job was to record and distribute information. But everything he was saying right now, all the words coming out of Harry’s mouth, was for Louis. 

“You said things were complicated. Complicated how?”

“Complicated because…” Harry shook his head, then brushed the hair away from his face with one hand. “None of it should’ve happened. I think we were both lonely and found some kind of solace in our friendship, then started going about it the wrong way. Last tour was when it started. It wasn’t just sex, either. We were getting loaded and partying way too much. I was skipping appearances and late for rehearsals at a pretty crucial time in my career. I mean, I was an idiot. We both were. When the tour finished, we didn’t see each other for a couple months, and then over the summer we hung out once and it was like we were back to normal. Before all this shit started.” Harry made a circle in the air with his finger. “This was all long before you and I even met.”

“Then why are you telling me this?” Louis asked, then realized that wasn’t the question he really wanted to be answered. “I mean, why are telling me this now? You treated it like it was some big secret that I couldn’t know about. Why?”

“Honestly? I didn’t want you to write about it.” Louis was about to interject, but Harry put a hand up to stop him. “Listen, I know it’s stupid. I mean, I’m pretty sure I can trust you, but I have this ingrained fear that I need to hide everything I do.”

“That’s Maurice getting in your head. All his bullshit about ‘the Enemy’. I’m not in the business of ending careers,” Louis said pointedly even though he realized that they were getting slightly off track. This was important, sure, but it wasn’t what Louis was here for. He was here to find out whether or not he was wasting his goddamn time. “Is this what it’s going to be like? All the secrets and trust issues. I’ll be honest, Harry, I don’t think I can deal with that.”

“I know.” Harry leaned forward, an earnest tone to his quiet voice. “I do trust you.”

“Then what’s the fucking problem?!”

“Jesus, Louis, I don’t know!” He was whispering in a way that still sounded like yelling. “I’ve never done this before, okay? I dated a couple of girls in high school, went through some meaningless hookups, then there was Vinny, then you. That’s it. I have no clue what I’m doing!”

There was something innocent about the way he said it, almost juvenile. The way Louis saw it, Harry was the complicated one. He had all the secrets, too many emotions, a kind of life no one would understand. But what Louis forgot was that he still a twenty-year-old kid who really did have no clue what he was doing. And the thing was, Louis didn’t really know either. This was just as new to him. If he was confused, it wasn’t fair to assume Harry had his shit figured out. Making assumptions, in general, wasn’t boding well with him at all.

“I think we need to start over,” Louis said carefully.

“You want me to explain the Vinny thing again?”

“No! I mean-” Louis sighed in frustration. This shouldn’t have been as messy as it was. Right from the beginning, they set themselves up for failure. “Do you think that maybe we got a little too intense too fast?”

Harry tilted his head, waiting for him to explain more.

“Right from the beginning, we were too in our heads. We couldn’t just let a kiss be a kiss, it had to mean something more. And then we jumped right in from there like we owed each other something. This isn’t how this shit is supposed to work. When are we actually going to learn about each other? Or even go out?”

“You’re the one who said you wanted to wait. “Conflict of interest” or whatever,” Harry countered.

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter anymore.”

His face fell. “What do you mean?”

Right then was when the waitress returned, making light conversation with Harry as she offered refills from the coffee pot she was holding. Harry was glad to have his cup filled, but Louis kindly declined. He still had most of it left since he forgot about it after the first couple of sips.

Harry thanked her, then waited until she walked away again before speaking. “Why doesn’t it matter?”

For a moment, Louis considered telling Harry about the story, but that wasn’t what this was about. It may have taken him a while to realize it, but for the first time in his life, Louis had put someone else before his career. He blew the interviews and working on his piece because, at least right now, Harry seemed to matter more. That didn’t mean he was leaving all his hard work behind for some boy. It just meant that for once, he didn’t mind the distraction.

“Because I care more about you as a person than I do about that cover story. Waiting is what fucked everything up, to begin with.”

That seemed to be enough to leave Harry in thought. Louis didn’t know where to go from here. They were able to address their problems, but solving them and moving forward was a whole other challenge in itself.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, his voice quieting again. “I care about you too and I’ve done a really shitty job of showing that to you.”

Louis smiled, his lips tightly pressed together. Stretching his hand across the table, he rested his fingers over Harry’s. It felt corny and sappy and all the things he claimed to hate, but the way the corner of Harry’s mouth lifted just at the touch, his expression softening, turned Louis’ insides to mush.

“I’m sorry too. It wasn’t fair of me to put you in that position without a proper discussion. It’s hard to communicate when it feels like everything you need to talk about has been blacklisted on both ends.”

“Then let’s start over again, like you said.” Harry pulled his hand away so he could adjust how he was sitting, leaning heavily onto the armrest as he crossed his legs. Normally, Louis saw the move as one of defense, but he looked much more relaxed than before. “We’ll take it slow. Friends first, even. No making out in empty dressing rooms the moment we see each other again.”

Leaning back, Louis shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight. The umbrella wasn’t doing a great job of keeping it out. “I won’t argue friends first, but making out in that dressing room was actually a highlight for me this week.”

Harry shook his head with a laugh. “And we wonder why we were taking things too fast.”

That made Louis crack a smile, his eyes squinting as he tried to hold back his own laughter. Harry paused to sip his coffee, still watching him with a smug grin over the rim of his cup. But then the moment passed and a line formed between his eyebrows.

“Louis, I have to ask you, what is it that you want from this? I just want to make sure we’re on the same page so we can, you know, avoid this whole mess from happening again.”

Louis took in a slow breath as he considered the answer. He already knew what it was, but he had to find the right way to word it. “I want you in my life, however that ends up being. I know expecting consistency with how hectic both of our careers make our lives isn’t realistic, but-”

“Do you want a relationship?” It might have been a general statement, not just about them. Was he the type to stay single and enjoy it, or did he want something more, with someone, someday? Louis didn’t want to take it too seriously.

“If it gets there,” he said. In his mind, the answer was very much yes, but they were taking things slow, so he knew that was the right thing to say.

“Then I think we’re on the same page,” Harry said, nodding once.

“I think so too.” Louis felt his cheeks getting hot and thought of how different the reason for it was than when this conversation started. He cleared his throat. “Maybe we should decide on what to order before the waitress gets back,” he suggested, opening his menu that he hadn’t even looked at yet.

“Good idea,” Harry agreed, just as his stomach audibly rumbled. They really had been here a while.

For the rest of the morning they ate, sipped coffee until it got cold, and without a recorder or any notebooks between them, actually got to know each other.

 

Louis didn’t leave that day. He really was going to. Before they went to pick up Liam he had packed his bag and everything, with plans to get a ride to the airport in the morning. He wasn’t even sure he was going to bother with any goodbyes. 

But now he was standing side stage at the Kansas City show that was thankfully going much better than the last. Something Louis didn’t realize until he knew the guys himself was how important that charisma between all the musicians on stage really was. You can’t jam in private with people you can’t stand, so how the hell should you expect to be able to put on the best show possible with them?

Taking Deja’s advice, Louis promised himself he wouldn’t bury his head in his notebook during the performances, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t come up with ideas in his mind. That was another thing. He agreed to finish the story, more because of Harry’s insistence than anything. He finally told him the cover was getting pushed and may never see the light of day, but Harry didn’t care. 

“You can’t abandon it altogether. You’ll hate yourself if you do. You came all this way. Finish the story, man. Whenever you need me for questions, just let me know.”

So Louis said he would. Tomorrow, on the drive to Chicago, they were going to take some time to talk about the big questions Louis never got to ask. More about the album, the next album, figuring out not just how he does what he does but why. And why people seem to connect with it so easily and so much. During soundcheck would be a follow up for anything he’d miss because the day after he was gone. Louis would’ve liked to stay longer, which was a sharp turn around from how he felt this morning, but he had a job he had to get back to. This story may not have worked out, but there would be another assigned to him as soon as he got back. The distraction was nice, but he couldn’t be distracted forever.

Right now, with a little over a day left, Louis decided none of that mattered yet because he was going to be present. His short-lived time on tour wasn’t over yet, and he was just starting to enjoy himself.

Standing next to Liam was definitely the right choice because he was all-in for every song, not holding back when he knew all the words. He was definitely the kind of person you wanted to take with you to a concert. Plus, he was totally willing to sneak backstage with little persuasion needed (at least they were invited this time). Niall was a little more casual when he watched, but he had to be the loudest at shouting his praise when a song came to an end. It was a nice little group, Louis thought. One he was going to miss because the chances of them being together like this again were slim.

The concert ended on a high, the band pouring off stage covered in sweat that they didn’t care about as they partook in congratulatory hugs and pats on the back. Louis didn’t even hesitate when Harry stepped toward him, the guitar still strapped around his body as he bent down for the hug. Louis noticed because he was so used to having to reach on his tiptoes for anyone taller that having his feet flat on the ground was almost strange.

After the show, everyone who was up for it piled in cars to take them back to the hotel where, it was recently brought to everyone’s knowledge, there was an outdoor pool. Despite it being nighttime and September, it was agreed upon that they definitely had to take advantage. Soon enough, that’s where Louis found himself. Standing next to a likely freezing cold pool where half of the attendees had either chose to skinny dip or get their clothes completely soaked. Louis opted to stay dry, hanging out with some friends and sipping a bottle of beer that wasn’t already warm by the time it made it into a plastic cup, for once. Beer was also the only thing he could handle right about now. Any more hard alcohol so soon after last night would send his head back into a toilet bowl.

Only a few garden lamps illuminated the pool deck, which was surrounded by a cluttered mess of plastic folding tables and chairs and umbrellas that had been tightly closed since the sun went down. Louis was leaning against the fence next to Liam, watching the ongoing chicken fights happening in the pool. Harry claimed himself to be on a winning streak despite the fact that his partner, Jasmine, who Louis had labeled as Maurice’s girlfriend in his head even though he had no idea, was doing all of the work.

No one had thought to bring along a radio, but Niall fixed that problem with a guitar. Not only did he have an audience, but Doc decided to partake with the vocals and he was actually damn good. Who knew the kid actually had some chops? His solo dream might not have been as far-fetched as Louis’ cynical brain assumed.

“Don’t you look different than when I last left you,” Louis heard next to him, but couldn’t quite pinpoint the voice. Liam’s face was the one that lit up, looking past him and holding open his arms for a hug.

“What are you doing here?!” his excited voice said, muffled by the shoulder of who he had his arms wrapped around. Louis took a half step back to give them some space, but when they separated, he found himself looking for a hug as well.

“Zayn!” he exclaimed, pressing a thumb over the opening in his bottle while he squeezed his friend tight. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”

“I was making my way west to see what was out there and I ran into Niall at a diner this morning. He invited me to the show and, well, I don’t often have a lot going on.”

“Why didn’t we see you?” Liam asked.

“I watched from the crowd. It really is a better view.”

“Well, come on, let’s get you a drink,” Louis said, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Actually, I had something else in mind,” Zayn smirked, pulling out a joint he had tucked behind his ear.

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Liam said, rubbing his hands together.

Louis broke into a laugh. “I was wondering why you were being so yappy. I figured you might’ve given up on the protest.”

“Of course not,” Zayn said, resting the unlit joint between his lips. “And I definitely haven’t given up pot either.”

Finding a spot on the cold, damp grass on the other side of the fence around the pool, the three of them sat in a circle as Zayn lit the tip of the joint. Despite the conversation, Louis forgot that he really would fall to silence again after those first few puffs. But that was okay, he decided as they were laughing at something Liam had said, because having his company was enough. Niall eventually found them as well, abandoning his guitar with Doc who was proving himself to be a bit of a virtuoso. 

“It’s a pointless argument. The Beatles are better songwriters, but the Stones put on a better show,” Niall said as he casually leaned back on his hands.

“No way, man. They’re in totally different leagues. The Beatles couldn’t match the Stones’ reputation if they tried,” Liam countered.

“You’re comparing two bands that are making music for different crowds. The Stones are for the kids who aren’t afraid to break rules, and the Beatles are for kids who think that rebellion is just standing up to your parents. You listen to the Stones while cruising with your friends and the Beatles with your date on prom night,” Louis said, feeling like his tone was enough to settle the argument itself.

“You ask a music journalist for an opinion, you get a music journalist answer,” Niall rolled his eyes, letting himself fall flat on his back. 

“Is the music journalist free for an interview?”

Louis turned around, letting go of his legs that he had been hugging to his chest. Vinny was standing only a few feet away, hands in his pockets as he gave Louis a weak smile.

“Interview?” Louis raised an eyebrow.

“Or just a quick chat.”

He turned back to the group who appeared unbothered by the question, especially Zayn who was seeing how much he could make the embers glow on the second joint he was lighting up. Not that they had a reason to be concerned. Only Louis knew the drama that had unfolded between the band over the last two days. He hadn’t spoken a word to Vinny since.

“Okay,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he told the guys.

“Be fast because we aren’t saving you anything,” Liam called after him as he walked away.

Vinny didn’t seem to want to go too far, but they silently agreed that this conversation should be done away from listening ears. The outside of the corner fencing did just fine.

“I’m surprised you didn’t call me ‘the Enemy’,” Louis told him with a hint of a laugh.

“Given what I wanted to say, I figured that would be a bad way to start,” he was grinning too when he said it, but Louis’ smile fell.

“What did you want to say?”

They were facing the balconies of all the suites now, some dark, some rowdy with people. Very few were in between. Louis wondered why the hotels put up with these so-called hippie kids taking over at every stop, then he remembered how much money these tours likely paid to book out whole floors and sections. Money tended to win in almost any business decision.

“I wanted to make sure we’re cool,” Vinny said, his voice friendly yet sincere.

With eyes scanning him up and down, Louis took in his appearance. His light wash jeans sat high on his waist, holding in the bottom of the t-shirt that was wrapped tight around his torso. While definitely not meeting a mother’s approval, his hair still wasn’t unmanageably long. It was shorter than Harry’s and much straighter, leaving a few short chunks over his forehead. His jaw was sharp and structured that blended smoothly into his cheekbones. The worst part was his arms, honestly. Toned and likely strong, looking fantastic while he played guitar.

Louis didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was definitely checking Vinny out. Not for his own interest, of course, but he was doing a mental comparison. Vinny was, for a lack of better words, totally fuckable. He was hot, and Louis wouldn’t deny it. But Louis, as modest as he typically would like to think he is, was also aware that he, himself, was also quite attractive. Most days he put effort into his style and hair, and he knew God had blessed him with a facial bone structure like a marble statue - okay, forget about the modesty part - but he wasn’t shallow enough to think that looks were all that mattered. That being said, when a hot person seems like competition, it really feels like they do matter.

But, he wasn’t competition at all, really. Louis trusted Harry’s choice, and everything else was insecurity only he was guilty of. He didn’t consider himself to be the jealous type, but this was also a situation he had never found himself in before. He and Harry weren’t even together. But they could be soon, couldn’t they?

Louis really had to stop with this over-analyzing thing.

“Yeah, we’re cool,” he eventually said, clearing his throat when the words didn’t come out right.

“I hope it’s okay that Maurice told me…”

Someone really should’ve told Maurice to mind his own damn business a long time ago.

“I guess it is now,“ Louis sighed.

“I just want you to know that I’m gonna back off. I’m still his friend, but I’ll keep my distance if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

Louis squinted at him, feeling strange about holding all the power here. He was so used to feeling like he didn’t have a say that actually communicating some thoughts was a relief.

He still let a beat of silence pass. Louis was a sucker for dramatic effect. He was a writer, what did you expect?

“Do you love him?” he asked, looking at him in the eye. God, he had to have those soulful blue eyes too? At least Louis could tie with him there, but that was one category he was used to winning.

“Yeah,” Vinny nodded, “but not like that.”

“I don’t want to come between any friendships, but I also don’t want things to get complicated.”

“So…”

“So don’t sleep with him anymore, and there won’t be any problems,” Louis stated. His light tone made Vinny let out a laugh.

“You have my word, man.” He stuck out a hand for Louis to shake. It was nice to not have a reason to hate two out of three of Harry’s friends, at least.

“Appreciate it.”

“You know, you’re not so bad for the Enemy,” Vinny decided as they turned back to the crowd.

“Ah, but you haven’t read my piece yet,” Louis shook a finger.

Vinny laughed. “Good point. At least make me a cool villain. I have a reputation, you know.”

“I’ll make sure to mention you were wearing a cape and Spandex tights the whole time.”

Rejoining the rest of the party, Louis decided he wanted to find Harry. He wouldn’t have minded hanging out with Vinny and actually started to befriend the guy, but he left on the search for booze and Louis had already decided he was done for the night after one.

Harry was still in the pool when Louis found him, not caring that his toes and fingers probably looked like raisins by now. He tried to wave, but Harry was more preoccupied with the inflatable ball they were bouncing in the air. In order to get his attention, Louis rolled his pants up to his knees and took a seat on the edge of the pool, letting his legs dangle in the surprisingly warm water.

Somehow, Harry still wasn’t aware of his presence. The game had turned into a ruleless round of everyone-for-themselves volleyball. As he was backing towards Louis, ready to smack the ball, Louis used as much strength as he could to create a mini-wave of a splash toward him.

That got his attention.

“Hey!” Harry whined, but his frown flipped when he realized who the culprit was. His hair was wet before, but the splash flattened it against his head. He tried to brush it all back, but that only made the clumps fall even more awkwardly.

“Hey,” Louis replied, not intending for the flirty tone, but also not denying he was planning on ending up there anyway.

Harry swam closer until he reached the edge, then rested an arm along the ledge fairly close to Louis’ leg. “What have you been up to?”

“I was just hanging out with the guys. Did you know Zayn was here?”

“Yeah, I saw him before the show. He’s going to come to Chicago too, I think.”

“Liam will be happy to hear that.”

Harry let out a laugh through his nose, then Louis felt his hand brush up against his leg under the water. “Do you think that they ever…?”

“Oh, one hundred percent. Look at them.”

Louis pointed to the table they were occupying in the corner, no one else around them, but still sitting next to each other on the same side. Even though Zayn had taken to silence again, it looked like they were using a notebook to pass back and forth. It seemed to Louis like that defeated the purpose, but it was better to just let them have their moment. Even if they were wrong, there was no doubting that something about their friendship was special.

“I got them their own room,” Harry said. “I didn’t think you needed another two roommates.”

“We all appreciate it,” Louis said, exaggerating the tone.

“That reminds me, didn’t you say you needed to go up to your room to change into some dry clothes?” Harry said.

Louis tilted his head to the side. “No, what are you-”

Before he could get any more words out, Harry had grabbed his arm and pulled him practically face first into the water. His head didn’t go under, but he landed with quite the splash, sending Harry into a fit of laughter.

“What the hell?!” Louis exclaimed, but that only made Harry laugh harder. He made sure to send a splash Harry’s way as he floated back to the wall even though he couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“I’m pretty sure you needed to change into some dry clothes,” Harry mentioned again as he wiped the excess water off his face.

That was when Louis’ brain suddenly snapped the puzzle pieces together. “Would you look at that, I guess I do.”

“Funny, because I also need to go up and change into dry clothes.”

“Might as well keep each other company on the way up.”

“Might as well,” Harry agreed, trying to hold back his goofy smile as they pulled themselves out of the water.

Louis found them each a towel to wrap around their waists, and soon they were racing towards the elevators. The only reason it was a tie was Louis’ false start mixed with Harry’s long legs. Louis hit the button for their floor, and once they reached it he was glad to see that the hallway was totally empty. That pool really did come in handy in more ways than one. He took Harry’s hand gently, leading him towards his room. Before they left, Louis double-checked to make sure Niall was still there so he knew the place would be empty. 

Harry didn’t say anything until Louis had the door open, but he also was also quite eager in their race upstairs. When they reached the inside, lights still on from whoever was here last, the door fell closed behind them. Harry backed himself against it, and Louis turned slowly to face him.

“Sorry for pulling you into the pool,” Harry said even though he was smiling. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Don’t apologize for a great excuse,” Louis replied, not hesitating in his step forward.

“I take it back, then.”

Louis let his hand rest on Harry’s hip, so Harry lifted his arms over his shoulders.

“So the whole friends-first thing…” Louis began.

Harry tilted his head to consider the idea of it again. “I think we had a good solid few hours of platonic friendship.”

“Just so we’re clear, it’s too late to be concerned about a conflict of interest now,” Louis pointed out.

“That’s been clear for a while.”

“Right, but we had to go over a lot this morning so I just wanted to make sure that everything was-”

“Are you going to kiss me, or do I have to wait another week?”

That was pretty much all Louis needed to hear to shut himself right up. So he pulled Harry in close kissed him, knowing before it even began that this one would be better than the rest. He reached his hand out and felt around for the light switch until he was able to turn it off. Some things were just so much better in the dark.


	8. Day 7 - Chicago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I just wanted to say a quick thank you for reading and sticking around until the end. This was the first sequel I've ever written and it was a lot of fun to use these characters again. I find the 60s to be a really interesting decade in pop culture so I've wanted to write in the Woodstock era and with that _Almost Famous_ aesthetic for so long, and I'm glad I've finally been able to. If you want to read some of my other "historical" work, I also have an 80s AU called What Happened to Never Say Die that was inspired by The Goonies. You can find it and other stories on my account page.  
> Again, thank you so much for taking the time to read my Woodstock series and I'd love to hear what you have to say in the comments. I hope to be back with another fic soon!

One of the best inventions had to be the chain door lock. 

That was Louis thought last night when he had to yell “A little busy in here!” when Niall tried to turn in for the night, and again this morning when Liam came looking for him. Could no one read the “Do not disturb” sign on the door? Technically, this room was Louis’ alone, so who he chose to share it with was completely up to him. And last night he chose to share it with Harry.

Sparing the details, the state Louis woke up in that morning was very different from the one he was in yesterday. For starters, one look around the room reminded him to tip housekeeping extra. But more importantly, he’d never been happier to wake up with a face full of curls and one arm wrapped around the boy he just spent a very intimate night with. One that resulted in clothes tossed on the floor and hair dampened with sweat. That feeling of absolute ecstasy when- 

Right, spare the details…

The wake-up call came around seven in the morning which was much earlier than either of them would’ve liked. An hour and the bus was set to leave for Chicago, so this was their warning. Louis could also hear a slight panic in the worker’s voice as she mentioned she was told to ask everyone who answered if they knew where Harry was since he didn’t answer his call or his door this morning.

“You can tell Patty he’s with me. We’ll be there on time,” Louis assured with his eyes barely open, then roughly dropped the phone back on the base.

Since he was awake and showered first, Louis had perched himself back on his side of the bed to flip through his notes until Harry was finished getting ready. He had quite a bit of salvageable material if he wanted to go for cliches, and while that might not have made his dream piece, readers would still eat it up. When it eventually made stands, that is. 

Today was to be dedicated to interviews. They had the bus ride there to finish the questions about his life and musical process, and then soundcheck tonight for diving into how he does what he does on stage. Louis already had a flight booked from Chicago to San Francisco in the morning, and that would be it.

It was fine that he had to leave, really. He knew he had to go home eventually and just two days ago he was ready to hop on that plane even sooner. Obviously, he was going to see Harry again. They talked about it last night. After the tour, Harry was going to be in LA to record his next album, then he had a couple months off that he was happy to spend in San Francisco. Not to mention the occasional flights between there and LA he could make in the meantime. And Louis would definitely be taking a little vacation to visit New York at some point.

It wasn’t going to be perfect, but thinking it would be was just dreaming. They’d try making it work. That’s all they could do.

Louis took another look around the room that he had attempted to clean while he was in the midst of packing. When they got in last night, it had already been a bit of a mess since the last time housekeeping went through it, and that responsibility fell on Niall. Louis tried to strip his bed of the sheets and compile all the empty bottles and waste in one spot on the table along with that extra tip. Considering the other people he’d been traveling with this week, Louis knew that this room wouldn’t be the worst the staff was going to have to deal with, at least.

From the bathroom, the quiet and melodic hum of Harry’s voice came floating back. It was quite endearing, Louis thought, but he was surprised he’d never heard him sing so casually before. When the door opened, he was already staring in his direction with a bemused grin.

“What?” Harry asked with a short laugh. He only had a towel wrapped around his waist and was searching for his clothes from last night to change back into.

“What song were you singing?” Louis wondered.

“Oh, it’s just something I wrote the other day…”

“How does it go?” He couldn’t make out any words, but quite liked the tune.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a happy song.”

“Few songs are. What are the lyrics?

“I’ll show you,” Harry said, picking up his pants from the ground. He pulled out a folded slip of paper and handed it over.

As Louis sat up, unfolding the creases, Harry took the time to get changed. Normally, Louis wouldn’t think twice about averting his gaze, but he let himself take a quick peek. Could you blame him?

He read the words over three times carefully. Just as Harry’s head poked through the neck hole of his shirt, he sat down next to him and adjusted the fabric around his torso. “Well?” he said.

“It’s almost haunting,” Louis told him, still looking at the paper. He tucked one leg under himself as he faced Harry, the other dangled over the edge of the bed. “I can picture the state y- whoever this person is would be in. You can feel their pain.”

“This one is about me.”

“And you wrote it just the other day?”

Harry nodded. “It’s one moment of pain, not a constant state. Not like this, anyway,” he said.

For once, Louis didn’t want to ask any more questions. At least, not about the deeper meaning.

“What’s it called?” he wondered instead.

“‘Gotta Get Better’,” Harry said, “but I think I might change it. I quite like the opening line.”

“Well, it’s really good,” Louis told him. “I hope I get to hear it one day.”

Harry paused, looking him up and down with a thoughtful smile. Louis knew he was being stared at but he was still looking at the paper he was holding even though he was no longer paying attention to the words.

“There’s something else I want to show you,” Harry said as he stood back up. He knelt down in front of his bag and pulled out a brown leather-bound journal. The lines on the pages were identical to the ones that Louis was holding. From inside the front cover, he pulled out what looked to be a photograph. Joining Louis back on the bed, he showed it to him.

“You kept it,” Louis said as soon as it was in his hands. This was a photo he remembered all too well. He and Harry sleeping in the grass, candid during that weekend he’d never forget. The way he felt when this photo was taken was how he wished he could feel all the time.

“Of course I kept it. It’s my favourite souvenir.” Harry paused, looking at Louis look at the photo. “You should write our names on it with the year and place,” he said, holding out a pen as well.

Louis quite liked that idea. He pulled off the cap and started scribbling on the white space below the picture. “It is quite a good photo,” he observed as he dotted the ‘I’. “You keep it in that notebook?”

“You aren’t the only one who carries a notebook wherever he goes. It holds everything I want to take with me.”

“Like what else?” 

“Lyrics, poetry, a dried flower petal from my first date, extra rolling papers.”

Louis laughed at the last part even though he couldn’t tell if he was joking. Harry wasn’t even trying to be subtle as he traced his thumb along Louis’ chin, then along the upcurve of his lips, his hand rested on his neck just behind his ear. Louis looked at the clock on the table next to him. “We have to be on the bus in twenty minutes,” he said.

“That’s plenty of time.”

“You still have to go pack your stuff from your room,” Louis reminded him.

“I can do that in five minutes, probably,” he said.

Louis tilted his head, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you have as good of a sense of time management as you think.”

“Well, it’s not like they can leave without me,” he quipped, then leaned forward into the kiss. But it was only a peck before he pulled away to look at him.

“What?” Louis asked in confusion.

“Thank you for staying,” Harry told him.

Louis smiled. “I couldn't leave a story unfinished.” 

“That’s disgustingly cheesy.”

“I just meant the profile about you! I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged, making Harry let out a laugh.

With one hand on his lower back, Harry guided him down until they were horizontal again. He returned to his lips and Louis welcomed it, but they were definitely going to be late.

 

Harry and Louis weren’t the last ones on the bus, but Reggie was eager to leave as soon as they stepped up those stairs. Louis headed straight for a table to make a desk for himself and get to work for the day. The couches and bunks were full of sleeping bodies already. He wondered how late the little pool gathering last night went on for as the bus roared alive.

“Is everyone here?” Harry asked no one in particular.

“I think so,” Vinny said. He was eating Pop Tarts straight from the foil bag as he lay under a blanket. Niall was behind him, searching through the cupboard behind him for one of the boxes of cereal.

“Wait, what about Zayn and Liam?” Niall asked, setting out a plastic cup to use as a bowl. The extent of the dishes brought along were paper plates and plastic cutlery. “Did they get the wakeup call?”

“Shit, I don’t know,” Harry said.

Reggie starting pulling the bus away from the curb.

“Guys, Maurice isn’t in any of the bunks,” Doc announced from the back of the bus.

“I retract my previous statement,” Vinny mumbled over a mouthful of sugar.

Harry turned to the front. “Reggie, don’t leave yet. We’re missing a few guys,” he instructed.

“We don’t wait for latecomers,” Reggie reminded him.

“We do when there are three of them. Pullover, man.”

With a deep sigh, Reggie abruptly halted the bus, causing the milk in Niall’s cup to splash all over the front of his shirt. “Aw, come on!” he exclaimed. Vinny looked up at him only to snort a laugh.

Thankfully, the two running figures across the back parking lot could clearly be identified. Louis waved at them slowly through the window, smiling in amusement as he twirled a pencil in his other hand. “Found ‘em,” he announced to the bus.

Reggie opened the door, his round face full of disapproval as Liam and Zayn came stomping up the stairs, bags swinging at their sides.

“Sorry we’re late!” Liam exclaimed breathlessly, dropping his bag to the ground as he collapsed at the end of the couch Vinny was laying on.

“Watch it,” Vinny said, yanking his feet away as he opened a second package of Pop Tarts.

“We got a little lost trying to find the right exit,” Zayn said as he slid into a chair. His bag looked more like it belonged tied to a stick and slung over his shoulder.

Louis looked directly at Harry with a smirk, who returned in the knowing glance.

“Who are you?” Doc looked at their new travel companion in confusion.

“Hey, can I have one of those?” Liam asked Vinny, pointing to the half-eaten box he was holding.

“Zayn, nice to meet ya’,” Zayn grinned.

“Just one,” Vinny hesitantly agreed, tearing open another package.

“Oh, well, they call me Doc. It’s a pleasure.” He bent down to shake Zayn’s hand.

“Do we have any more milk?” Niall asked loudly to whoever would listen.

“Is now really the time?!” Harry looked between them all in annoyance as he paced the centre aisle. “Does anyone know where Maurice is?”

“Did he not talk to you?” Liam asked.

“No,” Harry stopped in front of him. “Why, did he talk to you?”

“We ran into him on the way out,” Zayn said. “He was on his way to the airport, headed back to New York.”

“What?!”

“He does know we have a show tonight, right?” Doc asked. 

Vinny rolled his eyes, forcing himself to sit up with a groan. “If he’s going home, clearly he had no intention on playing. If he needs a break, good fucking riddance. He’s been a pain in the ass lately, anyway.”

“No,” Harry said sternly. “No breaks. If he’s leaving, then he’s done. I’m done. We’ll finish the tour without him and he’s not welcome back.”

“You don’t think that’s a little harsh?” Niall asked, not caring whether or not he was out of line. Apparently, he had given up on the milk because he was now eating Cocoa Puffs dry from the box.

“He made the choice to leave,” Harry said.

“Who’s going to replace him?” Doc asked, looking slightly bewildered by the whole situation. Maurice was a good friend of his, so Louis could only imagine the sense of abandonment he must’ve felt finding out his friend left without any hint at all that he was going to.

“Bobby knows the songs and the cues. I’m sure he won’t mind filling in,” Harry said. Louis knew Bobby as the main guitar tech. He was under the impression that the man had mastered every instrument under the sun, so filling in would be nothing.

The bus went quiet after that, as if they were waiting for more. But what else was there to say? Maurice was gone. He was fed up with something or other, or maybe he just needed a change. The shadow of the spotlight wasn’t enough for him, and that was his own business.

Besides, Louis thought, Vinny was right. Good fucking riddance.

“We can go now, Reggie. Thanks for waiting,” Harry said quietly, and the engine roared again.

Harry walked to the back of the bus until he reached Louis’ booth and slid into the seat across from him. His eyes were tired, likely from the early hours, but he also looked defeated. Louis stopped writing.

“You’re really firing him?” he asked softly, eyebrows raised.

“Well, it looks more like he quit, but just in case…”

“You’ve been friends with him for a while.”

“Too long,” Harry said. His arms were stretched out on the table in front of him as he sank deep into his seat.

“Are you going to miss having him around?”

“I’m not gonna miss the arguments.”

“He  _ was _ your friend.”

“Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

“No, no, of course not,” Louis said quickly. “I think you’re making the right choice.”

Harry roughly rubbed his thumb against his palm as he stared at his hands. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

Louis leaned forward, his elbows sticking out at his sides as he leaned into a whisper. “Are you worried he might say something? To the press, I mean.”

“I don’t think he will. If he does, I can deny anything he says. Brush it off as a false scandal.”

“If that’s what you’re comfortable with.”

“It’s a complicated world, Louis.”

“I know it is.”

There was a pause between them. Louis hesitated to say anything else at risk of speaking out of turn.

“The interview,” Harry said, trying his best to perk up. “We should do that now, then maybe we can relax the rest of the drive.”

“Yeah, okay,” Louis said brightly, proceeding to follow his routine of searching for his notebook, recorder, and a pen. He began to lay his materials out on the table.

“There’s a couch in the back. I’m sure it’s more comfortable, and more private,” Harry said, already standing up.

Glancing up at him, Louis’ mouth grew into a smile. “Sure,” he said, collecting everything in his arms and following Harry’s lead.

Three hours later found Louis laying across the couch just under the back window, his feet in Harry’s lap and his notebook abandoned on the floor next to him. The tape recorder was still spinning from where it sat on the backrest behind them, but the predetermined questions had been long forgotten about. Between them was a bag of cheese balls that had to have replaced the ones they bought in Arizona. That was one snack that didn’t last long around here.

“I want to focus on life as a whole more than just love,” Harry said, referring to his approach to the writing on his next album. “I have more to say than how another person makes me feel. That doesn’t mean I’m ditching love songs altogether. I mean, I definitely have the material for it. If I’m going to be honest in my writing then these songs have to be about me.”

“Do you think that will be more difficult than the fictional approach you’ve taken in the past?”

“You can’t improve without a challenge.”

“Good point.”

Harry took another handful of the cheese balls and picked one out. He tossed it lightly into the air and caught it on his tongue. The next one he lined up toward Louis, who opened his mouth to catch it, but it bounced off his nose. “Shit,” Harry muttered to himself, then repeated the throw two more times until he finally got it in.

“Your skills are diminishing,” Louis said with a laugh.

“I think you keep moving your head,” Harry countered.

“I think you need to work on your aim.”

Sitting up, Louis took a cheese ball of his own from Harry’s, tossed it up, and let it land perfectly in his mouth. Just for proof, he showed it off between his teeth before crunching down on it with a smug grin.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, trying to hold back his own smile. “Next question,” he said. 

“What makes a performance?” Louis asked, this time from where he was sat on a small speaker at the front of the stage in a Chicago theatre. Harry was behind the mic and holding his guitar that he was strumming absentmindedly while the sound was being adjusted. “What would you say is absolutely vital once you step on that stage?”

“It’s always about the crowd. A shitty crowd is a shitty show, and if you have a shitty crowd then you’re doing a shitty job of performing. Once you’re on stage, the music isn’t just for you anymore. It’s about everyone in the room. They’ve already heard the songs at home or on the radio. Now you’ve gotta give them a spectacle.”

“A different experience,” Louis summarized.

“Make them put every sense to use. I want them to taste it,” he said with a smolder that was all too forced as he rested a hand on the body of the guitar.

Louis tilted his head. “Taste it?”

Harry squinted one eye closed and scrunched up his nose. “You don’t have to print that line.”

“No, I like it! It’s weird. Don’t elaborate.”

Harry laughed, kicking his foot at the ground. He plucked at a few strings while watching Louis scribble his notes. His focus once a blank page was in front of him was uncanny. With the tip of his tongue bit between his teeth, and his neck arched a little too far forward as he wiggled the pen rapidly every time he stopped to think. The speed of his hand hardly made the printing legible to anyone who didn’t have his eyes.

Eventually, Louis glanced back up, tapping the pen against his chin. “What effect do you hope to have on the world? What kind of legacy do you want to leave behind?”

Harry had to take a deep breath in for that one, his eyes glancing up to the ceiling as he tilted his head back. Louis waited patiently, knowing how generic the question was but also knowing that, coming from a guy like Harry, it was an answer he wanted to know.

“I’m not trying to change the world. I’m not qualified,” Harry told him, sending his eyes back his way. “But maybe I can put a little good in it. Change a few people’s minds. That would be enough, don’t you think?”

Louis opened his mouth to reply, but was immediately interrupted by Patty making herself known as she marched forward from backstage. “Finishing up, boys?” she asked as she was writing something down on her clipboard.

“I think so, yeah,” Louis said, gaining her attention as he stood up. She tucked her clipboard under her arm.

“So you’re here for a week and it turns out one day is all you needed,” she said, laughing to herself.

“No, I’d definitely say we needed the week,” Harry said, smiling at her as he scratched the side of her nose. She got the hint.

“Well, if you need more time you’re free to stay. You’d be a cheaper guest now, anyway.”

Patty made herself chuckle as she walked off. It took Louis a moment to get what she meant, but the wink Harry sent in his direction clarified that pretty quickly.

“I mean, you are free to stay longer,” Harry said as Louis stepped closer to him. He still kept a safe distance, but he also knew that there were very few people left on tour who hadn’t caught on.

“I do have to work, you know,” Louis told him.

“I still have over a month to go. You could always come back,” he offered instead.

“That is a possibility…”

Everyone around them started clearing out and tidying the space for tonight. Harry handed off his guitar, then readjusted his shirt so it wasn’t twisted around his torso. That’s what happens when you pick sizes that are far too big in the name of fashion. Not that Louis was in any position to critique his fashion. Besides, that bastard looked good in anything.

“I just have to finish up here,” Harry said, his wandering fingers finding the zipper at the bottom of Louis’ open jacket. Apparently, this was him trying to be subtle. “I’ll meet you back at the dressing room in a bit.”

“I’m not cold,” Louis told him.

Harry gave him an odd look. “Huh?”

Louis smiled this time. “You don’t need to do up my jacket for me. It’s pretty warm up here.”

Harry smiled too, now that he had caught on. “Maybe you need to go to your hotel room and change into something a little cooler...”

“If that boy makes you late he’s uninvited back!” Patty shouted from the sound booth where she had suddenly appeared. Harry dropped his hand with a sigh.

“Coming!”

“Dressing room later?” Louis asked, collecting his bag.

“I’ll see you there.”

So Louis walked back to the dressing room alone, feeling light on his feet as he glided down the hallway. He couldn’t remember the last time he was in such a good mood. Inspiration was finally flowing, that excited energy was back in the air, and he was happy. Damn, did it feel good to be happy. Sometimes it’s hard to stay that way when you find a rare moment in your life when nothing can bring you down. You have to savour it, take advantage of it, milk it for all it has, resonate with what’s left, then try not to be so afraid of the cycle starting again. Because happiness doesn’t last, but it also doesn’t go away forever.

The dressing room was already occupied when Louis returned, and he tried to bring as little attention to himself as possible as he opened the door. He could hear the radio blasting from down the hall, and it was even more apparent now that he was in the room. Next to the door was where the snacks and drinks were set up, so he poured himself a weak drink grabbed a handful of pretzels to tide him over.

“There he is!” Niall called out like an uncle would when you were fourteen and finally emerged from your cave of a bedroom to partake in Thanksgiving dinner, the worst of the familial obligations.

“Hey,” Louis waved as he approached the couch and chairs, all of which were taken by Liam, Niall, Zayn, and company. He leaned against the wall instead, rattling the ice cubes around in his glass as he crunched down on a pretzel.

“Check out what we picked up this afternoon,” Liam said, folding closed the magazine that they were all huddled over around the table. Louis leaned forward to take it from his hand. His eyes widened when he saw the cover.

“Oh… wow,” he said as he immediately set his drink down. “I haven’t actually seen this in print yet.”

“I noticed it when we were picking up smokes,” Zayn said. “Didn’t even know it was you until Niall mentioned it.”

“We’ve been passing it around the room. It’s a great piece, man. I had no idea you could write like that,” Niall told him.

“You captured it perfectly,” Liam added. “It made me proud I could be there.”

It was strange, the photo they chose for the cover. A man walking through a pond, naked but covered, likely just trying to clean himself and get on with his day. No crowd, no stage, no Hendrix, just a guy. He wondered where the picture came from because it definitely wasn’t one of his. Upon a first glance it didn’t look like Woodstock at all, but from someone who had been there, the image sent him right back to that weekend he never wanted to forget. It was perfect.

Louis flipped to the page with the cover story. His story. The one he slaved over for hours and pulled all-nighters for until it was perfect. Seeing his name under that title gave him a kind of chill he never felt before. Of course, this wasn’t his first published story, but it was the first one that would matter. One that wasn’t a slew of opinions for teenagers to argue with their friends over in their bedrooms while listening to records. Not that those weren’t important too. But this was a story about real, ordinary people in a real, ordinary place and about how they made extraordinary history by just being there. History doesn’t have enough stories with happy endings.

“Pretty good for a rookie, I guess,” Louis said, wishing he knew how to take a compliment. The fact that almost everyone in this room had read his piece was almost overwhelming. This issue had been out nearly a week. He tried not to think about how many people across the country had picked up their own copy by now and read the words he strung together.

“You’re one to look out for, Louis,” Niall wagged a finger at him. “Soon, you’re gonna be one powerful enemy.” He made sure to wink when he said it, which made Louis breathe a laugh.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’d say this calls for a celebration,” Zayn announced, revealing the joint he had tucked behind his ear. He held it up like he was presenting an award, then slid over so Louis could join them on the couch.

“Zayn, my friend,” Louis said, “you know how to speak my language like no other.”

Louis really didn’t think he would miss this tour as much as he was already starting to. He still had one more show and one more night, but he wouldn’t be getting on that tour bus with everyone else in the morning. At least he wasn’t the only one. Niall was flying back to L.A. tonight. He had an album of his own to record, and a band who was wondering where the hell he’d been for the last week. At least his foot was finally on the mend. He still had a slight limp, but no more crutches to depend on. Too much of a hassle to carry around. Lesson learned, he supposed.

As for the others, Liam was headed for his uncle’s and Zayn decided he was tagging along until he was off to his next destination. As much as he had fun for the couple nights he was here, Zayn admitted this wasn’t where he belonged. Not in the real world, but not this fantasy either. Somewhere in between, where he could make his own rules. That sounded like a fantasy too.

Louis never did find out what was going on between those two. They were practically attached at the hip, and the way they looked at each other was something he found all too familiar. But he didn’t need to know. Whatever it was, it was obvious they made each other happy. Love had dimensions that were too hard to fathom. It was definitely love of some kind. 

The funny thing about love, Louis thought, was how seriously it was taken between two people. You’re supposed to love your family the most, and you have to wait ‘x’ amount of months before you tell the person you’re seeing that intense three-word phrase. But it’s just an emotion. No math is involved. You may not be able to know you’ve fallen in love the moment you meet someone, but maybe you can know that one day you could, once you’ve spent an entire weekend getting to know who they are. And that’s just the first layer. Like the way you love your favourite flavour of ice cream. You wouldn’t necessarily do anything in the world for it, but you know it would always be your first pick. And then that love is the flower you wish you could watch come to bloom, your favourite movie you always quote, and the song that you would perfectly line up the grooves on the record to just to hear it. The book you’ve read over and over even though it eats away hours every time; hours that you wouldn’t want to spend any other way. It’s the one place you always find yourself coming back to.

And then it’s just a person. You have no metaphors left because that love has become incomparable. Incomprehensible. You just feel it. You just know.

Louis had never been to that point, but this morning, his bed sheets smelled a little like roses.

Looking back on that last night, Louis didn’t remember what was laughed about as he sat on that old couch on the dressing room, ashing his cigarette in the tray in front of him and passing it to Vinny for a drag. Or maybe it was Doc. Those details were lost. But he did remember the door opening slowly and his eyes drifting towards it. How his heart leaped even though he hadn’t seen Harry’s face yet, but he knew it was him. Funny enough, he was the only one who ever knocked, and his name was on the door.

He remembered the smile on Harry’s face and the creases that formed from it. How his eyes were a little glossy, but it was only the light that made them that way. He greeted everyone who waved in his direction and shook the hands of anyone he didn’t know. A spotlight seemed to follow him around the room, no matter how much he’d like to shoo it away. Or maybe the spotlight was just in Louis’ head. He watched on from behind his hand that was propped up casually next to his cheek. He didn’t even realize how much he was smiling until Vinny caught his eye, shaking his head with a laugh. Louis turned away to clear his throat, and a tissue fell into his lap. He looked up to see Niall standing in front of him.

“You might want to dab away that drool,” he quipped before walking away to refill his drink.

Louis reflexively lifted a hand to wipe his mouth, which was completely dry. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Vinny laughing again.

Was he really that obvious?

“Hey, do you want to go for a walk?”

Louis looked up once more, this time to see Harry approaching him with a smile brighter than his imaginary spotlight.

“Yes,” Louis said quickly, standing up and letting the tissue fall to the ground. He bent halfway down to pick it up, then decided it didn’t matter and opted to leave it where it was. He really had to get it together. Harry stepped out of the way so Louis could take the lead. He could feel Harry’s hand rest on his lower back as they crossed the room. It was tearing him apart, but in the best way. 

Just as they approached the door again, it opened on its own and Deja came strolling in. She didn’t look nearly as surprised as you’d expect from someone who opened a door right in someone’s face.

“Don’t let us get in your way,” she said, and that was when Louis realized it was Cynthia who she had on her arm as they rushed past. He turned around to smile at her, only to find she was taking up his old spot on the couch. Right next to Liam and Zayn.

He and Harry turned to look at each other. 

“Did you see-”

“Yep,” Louis cut him off. “Best to not ask questions, I found,” he said, catching the door before it closed. Harry laughed slightly to himself, still very confused. So was Louis, but he didn’t care anymore. He stopped looking for answers.

“Let’s go outside. It’s a nice night,” Harry said once they were out in the hallway. The exit door was only a few feet to the right. He opened it to let Louis go through first.

It was much quieter out here, which was welcome after being in the usual chaos of the dressing room. Harry was right, it was a nice night. It was a little chilly, but not too cold as the sun began to set. There wasn’t much they could actually walk to, so instead, they leaned against the concrete wall next to each other.

“Don’t you have to be on stage in…” Louis looked at his wrist, but his watch wasn’t there. Harry lifted his arm instead.

“Ten minutes,” he said.

“Is that my watch?”

Harry smiled. “You left it on the nightstand this morning. I was wondering when you’d notice.” He fiddled with the strap until it came loose, then gently lifted Louis’ wrist. His hands were warm as he pulled the strap tighter. He didn’t let go of his hand once it was on. They each only had one shoulder against the wall now.

“Thanks,” Louis mumbled. “It’s my dad’s old watch. He gave it to me before I left for college. Didn’t help me make it to class on time much,” he joked.

“You’ve never mentioned your family.”

“They’re great. Normal, I guess.”

“I like normal.”

“I’ll have to introduce you one day, then.”

“I’d like that,” Harry said. He was still holding his hand, a thumb brushing lazily along the back of it. “So, do you have any plans after the show?” he asked.

Louis tilted his head. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I was hoping I could take you for dinner. A date, maybe.”

“A date  _ maybe _ ?”

“Definitely a date.”

Louis smiled, feeling his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “I’ll see if I can squeeze you in,” he said.

“Well, I hope so. I’ve had these reservations made for a week.”

“A week?”

“I made them the night you said you wanted to wait.”

With a smile, Louis shook his head. He was almost surprised. Almost.

“I’d love to.”

Louis lifted their linked hands to look at the time again, watching the second hand tick by. “You still have seven minutes before you have to be on stage,” he mentioned.

“Well then,” Harry said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, “you better not make me late.”

And then he leaned in for the kiss.

From above them, a light flickered on to illuminate the entryway for the door, it’s beam surrounding them. Louis waited for the door to open suddenly, and for Harry to pull away in panic. But the moment passed and neither happened. It must’ve been some faulty wiring, but Harry didn’t even flinch. Louis pulled him in closer, feeling the smile against his lips as Harry’s hand found his cheek. 

For once, he didn’t seem to mind the spotlight.


End file.
